


Stranger Things (Have Happened)

by supercalifragalisticfanfiction



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercalifragalisticfanfiction/pseuds/supercalifragalisticfanfiction
Summary: Billy Hargrove has survived the confrontation with the Mindflayer but does suffer some injuries. With no else to care for him, Steve Harrington is up to bat. This new relationship helps to heal them both but isn't without difficulties especially as it gets increasingly... complicated.





	1. Nurse Harrington

It’s July 18th.

It’s been two weeks since the Mind Flayer was defeated and the gate was sealed. Everyone is trying to get back to their old lives the best they can. It’s weird how every time everyone seems to go back to normal even though they all know things are different. They all have something familiar to lean on everyone except…

“HARRINGTON!”

Steve heads upstairs to heed the call, cursing under his breath. He nearly trips over the middle step but catches himself. He’s gotten so graceless in the last year or so. Sometimes he wonders if every time Hawkins is under attack he loses cool factor. He’s never really returned to his old self not since the beginning. With every new, terrifying event Steve takes on a new role.

Steve opens the door to his family’s guest bedroom.

“Radio!” Steve shouts back upon entry, “What is so hard about using it?!”

“Bite me,” a gruff voice responds. 

It’s late evening in Hawkins and given the seclusion of the Harrington residence and the drawn curtains of the guest room; it feels as if the voice belongs to the dark itself. The smell of the room is unsettling too; two week’s worth of unwashed everything sealed into four walls. Steve holds his nose.

“Y’know there’s a shower right through that door,” he says as he tries to breathe as little as possible, “and the light switch-”

“Turn on that light and you’re dead.”

Steve ambles toward the low light lamp he knows is on the bedside nightstand. It clicks on and gives the room a dull, warm light. That lights hits a bedridden Billy softer than the switch would have. Still he winces and groans at the change and Steve sighs.

“I’m not much help if I can’t see.”

“Bucket’s full,” Billy replies through grit teeth.

“Of course.”

Steve comes around to the other side of the bed and looks at the large paint bucket filled with vomit. It’d be nice if he had help to care for his unwanted house guest but he wouldn’t dare put anyone else through this. As far as Steve’s skills as a nurse go; he somewhere between shitty boyfriend and a good babysitter.

“Chair,” Billy says right as Steve is about to pick up the puke bucket.

Billy’s wheelchair is on it’s side and out of reach for him. Which means he threw it again. Steve doesn’t mention it. Instead he rights it and brings it bedside for Billy.

“Do you, uh-” Steve tries to phrase it differently as he locks the chair in place.

“If I want your fucking help, I’ll ask.”

Steve returns to the bucket and sets about dumping it into the toilet in the adjacent bathroom. He has to do it in small bits and he prays silently that he doesn’t spill any. The last time that happened he had to toss his jeans out.

As he flushes, Steve can hear Billy grunting and struggling to get into the wheelchair. It’s hard to manage even with help given that he’s covered in stitches and has a broken foot. He can’t do crutches because the stitches on his sides might split from the pressure. They’re huge, oddly shaped patch jobs that the doctor insists require bed rest. Oh, and the nurse essentially guarantees scarring. Steve doubts that Billy will be playing any shirts vs skin games anytime soon.

“Fuck!”

There’s a loud thud that follows right after. Steve drops the bucket and hurries back to the bed to find Billy crumpled on the ground. The chair is flipped and Billy is on his stomach holding a hand to his bandaged side.

Steve moves the wheelchair aside quickly and starts going about picking Billy up. Billy pushes him away and screams not to touch him. Steve keeps trying and manages to flip him onto his back. This makes Billy more furious and he starts throwing punches to the best of his ability. This isn’t the first time that Billy is fighting help. He’s been doing it since he was discharged from the hospital.

“Stop. Hitting. Me!” Steve grabs his dirty patient by the wrists.

Billy screams into Steve’s face so hard that the veins in his neck stand out. Steve holds steady though and the scream seems to be the last of the fight left. He takes stock of him as he keeps him pinned; the red eyes and the tear stained cheeks. Billy is hissing from the pain and, one could argue, whimpering, if there was ever a guttural version of whimpering.

“Okay,” Steve collects his thoughts, “I can’t keep doing this. I have dealt with some shit, man but this? Trying to take care of you is the hardest bull shit I’ve ever been through-”

Billy manages a weak growl and the slightest push back against Steve’s hands.

“No, no no, I’m not done! You have two choices; either you start letting me help you or I dump your ass on your parent’s front porch.”

The violence in Billy’s gaze disappears in a single blink. It’s replaced by something else, something that feels familiar to Steve. He can’t dwell on it though. He needs to seize the opportunity while he can.

“I’m not asking for any thank you’s or even a please, okay?” Steve softens, “Let me help you. That’s it. Just let me help you.”

Billy nods but can’t bring himself to make any eye contact. Steve sighs in relief before putting one arm under Billy’s good knee and the other under his arm. He remembers to lift with his legs but the transition isn’t painless for Billy. The wounded of the pair seems to be trying to meet the other halfway though as his groans and hisses are absent of anger.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” Steve says, knowing full well that’s why Billy wanted the chair in the first place, “just mind the bucket and when you’re ready-”

Steve grabs the radio he already knows is stashed under one of the pillows. He puts it in Billy’s lap.

“Radio me and I’ll take a look at your stitches.”

—

Billy absolutely pulled a stitch during his last tantrum. Thankfully, it doesn’t warrant a trip back to the hospital but it does require a little cleaning and a fresh bandage. It’s unbearably quiet as Steve mentally walks through the steps Max left him. Babysitting even in upside down level circumstances takes less effort than playing nurse.

The instructions for all this isn’t too difficult but Steve has to sift through all of Max’s details and what if scenario information. That kid is like an encyclopedia for wounds. She’d make a great nurse. Someday. And not for her formerly possessed brother who tried to kill her and her friends. Even the most seasoned nurse might have a little trouble with that.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks over an unintentional sneer from the disinfectant.

“Huh?”

This seems to wake Steve up from his intense thought process.

“Your mouth,” Billy gestures gently, “you’re moving it like you’re saying something but you’re not saying shit.”

“Uh…I’m thinking, I guess.”

“You need to do that to think?”

Steve takes a bit of his frustration out on the roll of tape for the bandages and forcefully pulls a strip.

“Guess so,” he replies curtly.

No one’s ever pointed out that quirk before but then maybe no one ever noticed? Or maybe it’s a new development? Some neurotic shift resulting from the trauma of being tortured by Russians or purposefully crashing a car or seeing a building sized rotting flesh monster? The world is full of possibilities.

Steve places the strip of tape on the headboard to keep it ready and within reach. He moves in to adjust Billy but thinks better of it.

“Can you hold yourself up a little more?” he asks.

Billy obliges. Awkwardly, Steve sits on the free space of the bed and moves in close. Billy lifts his arms enough to allow Steve to start winding the gauze around his torso and over a shoulder. In the past couple weeks this was just as difficult as anything else was but now that the boys have an agreement the physicality of it goes smoother.

“Why is this taking so long?” Billy grunts.

“Uh, maybe because you’re not screaming and trying to punch me?”

Steve has time to do this right, no rogue limbs and noise pollution to make it hurried. However, that lack of sound and movement does make things quiet and kind of weird. It seems as though if they’re not fighting then they’ve got nothing to talk about.

Steve gets to the final round and places the big strip of duct tape across the uninjured part of Billy’s chest. Then he carefully places his hands on his work and checks for loose gauze. 

Billy’s body is so warm under the bandage and despite the damage on his torso he still looks like he could bench press Steve. Maybe Billy would be playing shirtless basketball again after all.

“If you don’t explain what this is I’m going to have to punch you,” Billy says flatly.

Steve pulls his hands back quickly and holds them up in pseudo surrender.

“I’ve never been able to check if I did it right before. Feels right,” Steve stumbles over his words, “Firm. And-and good. How do you feel?”

Billy narrows his eyes and the air shifts dangerously.

“You queer?” he asks in disgust.

Steve feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Queer? Nobody’s ever asked if Steve’s a queer. Steve’s the one who asks that. An instinctive rage tears at the question but then Steve remembers…

_‘But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.’_

Steve used to ask shit like that. Not anymore.

“What if I am?” Steve asks heatedly.

“The fuck did you just say?”

The anger starts to flicker back into Billy’s eyes.

“What if I am?” Steve repeats, “It wouldn’t change anything. Being queer, or uh, different doesn’t make someone not a person and in case you forgot right now I’m the person stuck taking care of your ass.”

Of all the times that both Steve and Billy have ever accused someone of being gay neither of them have ever heard that kind of response. It’s twice as shocking for Steve for no other reason than it’s his response. The room feels a little smaller now and Steve tries to keep in mind the kind of insecure asshole Billy is, the kind of asshole Steve used to be. The longer Steve sits there on the bed with his statement in the air the smaller the room gets.

“But no,” Steve stands up, “I’m not queer.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

“Calling people pretty boy, honestly? That sounds kinda queer, so-”

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that!” Billy shouts, his fists pounding into the mattress.

He backs off his anger right away though his body unable to handle it.

“Okay,” Steve relents.

“I’m not a fag.”

“I got it.”

“I’m no-”

Billy’s face goes pale and his mouth begins to quiver. Steve knows what this face preludes and makes a run for the bucket left in the bathroom. He manages to get a hold of it as Billy starts dry heaving. He runs back into the room but trips over his feet. He slides desperately trying to get the bucket back in time. He misses by an inch and Billy vomits hard all over himself and the bed.

—

“No,” Billy gurgles quietly as Steve does his God given best to place him into his parents’ large, squared bath tub.

The tub squeaks as Billy’s body settles into a decent position. Steve breathes out heavily and tells himself not to think about the effort that’s going to come from getting this dead weight out of the tub. Instead he has to focus on the quickest and least weird way to bathe another person’s entire body. Like all of it. Because the thing Steve was dreading the most is here; Billy absolutely needs a bath.

Billy also seems as though he was dreading this but luckily Steve had the foresight to convince him into taking his pain medicine first. Then it was just a matter of letting it kick in as Steve threw out the sheets and set the mattress on the curb for garbage to collect.

His parents can afford a new mattress and Steve honestly feels it’ll be less effort to be bitched out than trying to clean up.

“Give me… my clothes,” Billy slurs.

“Listen, you’d be in your underwear right now if I had a choice but as it turns out you don’t wear underwear.”

It’s practically comical, the unfortunate luck Steve has. He manages to avoid the fight but gets stuck with nudity. He’s technically seen Billy naked before, back in high school in the gym showers, but other than a douchey tap on the shoulder from Billy there was no contact. It was a circus trying to load Billy into the tub naked and desperately trying to avoid everything around and attached to his pelvis.

Steve turns the water on.

“Cold,” Billy groans as he tries to pull a face at the faucet.

“It’ll get warm, relax.”

The water adjusts and Billy seems to forget the circumstances of this bath as he relaxes. He’s practically serene against the cream colored tile despite the seran wrapped cast propped on the edge of the tub. His eyes are heavy like he might just fall asleep after all. Steve realizes that in time he’s known Billy he’s never once seen him calm like this or any other variation of calm. In many ways, Billy reminds Steve of some big wild animal. He always looks… predatory.

Steve takes a large cup and pours water slowly across the front of Billy’s chest, allowing it to pool down to places where Steve’s not looking to make direct contact given his previous acrobatics around them. The water clears the faded trail the puke had left behind.

Billy hums a little as Steve tries not be repulsed by pressing a bar of soap to his skin.

“Don’t do that,” Steve practically begs.

“I haven’t had a bath,” Billy muses, “in a tub. A bathtub bath. Since I was a kid. My mom…”

Steve makes a face and tries to move a little faster. He was hoping that the painkillers would tire him out too much for any talk. Although given that Steve has also been high and babbled inconveniently before he shouldn’t judge.

“My mom was the only one…who gave me baths…and then she was… gone.”

Steve stops mid pour on the second cup of water.

_Gone,_ he has the good sense to wonder and not ask, _like left? Or gone like dead? Or both? Wait how would he know if it was both if she left? Unless someone called. That would really suck._

Steve sticks with his better judgement and lets Billy’s comment go without further acknowledgement. He finishes up the second rinse.

“Can you wash my hair?” Billy opens his heavy eyes just long enough to make eye contact, “Please?”

“Sure…”

Steve finds himself coming around to the other side of the tub to sit down. The shampoo he uses has an orange color and smells sweet like honey. It may be his mom’s or his dad’s or both. Steve wouldn’t know. He hadn’t been in close enough proximity of either to know something like that. He can’t even recall what products, if any, they ever smelled like. They always keep at least a foot between them and him even when they’re angry.

Steve digs his fingers into Billy’s hair and does gentle circular motions. He starts at the crown and works down to the base of the neck. Billy’s hair has isn’t too bad and the movement breaks up the any matting. Eventually, Billy’s hair is soft again.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks despite wishing he hadn’t. The silence was probably better.

“Where’d you learn to do…that?”

Steve looks around as if somehow someone might be spying on him. He takes his hair secrets very seriously.

“I don’t think you’ll remember this but if you do you better not tell anyone. You better swear.”

“I swear,” Billy vows with a goofy smile.

“I’ve got a cousin who’s a hairdresser in the city and she says this is the best way to wash hair. Helps it to grow and stuff. It’s the way I wash mine so yeah. I guess it’s a technique.”

Steve is working his way back to the top again, his fingers massaging Billy’s scalp under honey scented bubbles and warm water.

“It’s like getting a blow job but for your hair,” Billy laughs sleepily.

“And we’re done now.”

Steve pulls his hands out of Billy’s locks. His cheeks go flush and without thinking he wipes the suds off on his shirt. He retreats back to the other side of the tub to get the cup and get this over with.

“No..no no,” Billy continues to giggle to himself, “I like it. Head for your head haha.”

“Very funny,” Steve deflects as he tilts back Billy’s head to rinse his hair out.

“No… no, you’re not listening.”

Billy places a lazy grip onto the collar of Steve’s shirt while Steve still has a hand on the back of Billy’s neck. The atmosphere shifts into unfamiliar territory. Steve feels like maybe all this isn’t just awkward, it’s inappropriate.

“I like it,” Billy mutters before pulling Steve closer and very gently kissing him on the mouth.

Steve panics, drops the cup and tries to pull back but Billy holds his grip and kisses him again, this time using tongue. Steve’s ears feel hot with embarrassment because he can taste Billy’s tongue. It’s a cool mint from brushing his teeth earlier. It tingles the roof of Steve’s mouth.

Billy lets go of Steve’s shirt to let his hand migrate to Steve’s neck. He tangles his fingers into Steve’s dark strands.

It’s a primal kiss and the energy shocks Steve into staying completely still. He’s the proverbial deer in the head lights.

Billy breaks the kiss by seizing his fingers into Steve’s hair and pulling him back.

“Whatsa matter, gorgeous?” Billy smirks, “Can’t keep up?”

He’s an animal, Steve panics, all he knows is fucking and punching and now that he’s not punching- oh God.

“You never kiss like this?” Billy taunts him, “I can give you romance if you want. Treat you soft-“

His pouty lips start to trail kisses on Steve’s jawline.

“You can be my pillow princess if you want, pretty boy. I can be gentle.”

Something snaps in Steve. Something competitive and furious. Angrily he brings his lips to Billy’s and starts to kiss him wanting to prove that he’s no princess. He’s a man. 

Billy moans into it before biting Steve’s lip baiting him to give him more. Steve is overcome with the need to devour him. He wants to taste everything Billy has to offer. He grabs Billy’s wrists and goes to pin them at his sides.

Billy winces and lets out a pained groan which stops them both. Steve had grabbed a little too roughly and with that pulled stitch on one side Billy can’t be handled like that.

Billy is staring at Steve. He’s wide eyed and shocked and Steve stares back.

Things feel awkward again but this time Steve is a reason for it. It now seems inconceivable that Steve had kissed him back let alone with that vigor. He wipes the water and shared saliva from his lip with the back of his hand. He can still Billy’s eyes on him as he spits into the sink.

_That was gross…I’m gross..._ Steve thinks as he looks at his reflection in the mirror.

“We should, uh,” he desperately tries to change the subject, “we should get you to bed.”

Billy, still high as a kite, snorts and gestures to nothing in particular.

“What bed?”

—-

“Oh my God.”

Steve is expecting something a little more succinct from Robin but maybe taking the Lord’s name in vain is the best way to sum it up.

“I know.”

“Oh my God!”

“I know, Robin!” Steve responds in equal parts shame and exasperation.

“No,” Robin glares at Steve, “I mean ‘oh my God’ as in; Oh my God I’ve been gay like my whole life and you get to have a same sex kiss before me?! Jesus Christ you get everything!”

Steve, dumbfounded, sits quietly as he lets Robin process things. It felt dangerous to breathe a word of last night’s events to anyone but Robin isn’t just anyone. She gets the gravity of keeping this kind of secret.

It’s hot again today as they sit out by the pool. Steve’s radio is within ear shot, sitting on a lawn chair in the shade, should Billy call but given that he’s been out cold since last night Steve doubts it. 

It was Robin’s idea to have daily pool time. They were both out of job and the second she saw that Steve’s place had a pool she knew she needed at least an hour a day in the water. Steve’s thankful for it now. It feels therapeutic to see Robin show up everyday in her black one piece and her short hair clipped back at the sides. She always reeks of sunscreen though.

Steve kicks his feet a little in the water.

“So… what do I do?”

“How should I know?! You’re more advanced than me.”

“No. No, no, I am not advanced. I’m not even in this class!”

“Billy kissed you,” she laughs, “you’re not even gay and you get action. Is it something that only I don’t get? I mean I like women, so of course I don’t get it but I thought Billy was straight.”

“He is!” Steve backtracks, “I think.”

“You think?”

Billy didn’t actually date in high school. Every girl, with the exception of the usual groups, wanted Billy. Bad. The guy could sneeze and panties would drop. They were obsessed.

But he never dated them. Any of them. He didn’t even fool around. He acted like they weren’t good enough and that made him even more appealing to them. He was hot and completely unattainable and he didn’t seem at all interested in that advantage.

“Well being gay would explain that,” Robin remarks after Steve shares his thoughts, “cover it up by telling yourself you’re better than them. I can relate, yknow, minus the popularity stuff.”

Unbeknownst to either Steve or Robin, Billy had actually spoken at times about his hookups with women. These were women though not high school girls. Some of those women being the mothers of the very guys who supported his social status by the way. He gave enough details to keep from being questioned but never enough to out the cohorts of his sexual escapades. Older women prefer that kind of discretion and Billy didn’t mind.

But, since Robin and Steve aren’t in the know, there’s only one logical conclusion.

“He likes boys,” Robin shrugs before slipping the rest of her body over the edge and into the pool.

She starts making a lap leaving Steve to stew in this deduction. How is this whole Nurse Steve thing going to work now? How does he avoid any interaction when he has to take care of him? It’s not like Billy can go anywhere else, El made that clear over the radio this morning. Under no circumstances is Billy to be handed over to his father. El’s tone ensured there’d be no room for argument and Steve isn’t exactly itching to argue with her either. She’s a scary kid.

Robin and Nancy have nowhere to hide him. Johnathan has enough to take care of with his mom grieving for the chief of police. Not that the Buyers have much room either. There’s no one else with time and room to get Billy back on his feet. It’s not like Steve can claim that his parents are coming home any time soon either: they’re both camped out in the city in order to wait out their ties with the former mayor. The soonest they’d be back is Thanksgiving if they come back at all.

“Hey dingus!”

Robin had made half a lap and is now pulling herself out of the water. She shakes her hair, almost like a dog, and Steve feels an overwhelming affection for her. That’s his best friend there, drying off like a Labrador.

“Shall I point out the obvious?” She calls out as her bare feet leave a trail of wet footprints behind her.

“The obvious?” Steve asks more to himself than to Robin.

Robin stands behind Steve and plants a foot firmly onto his back.

“You never said that you didn’t kiss him back.”

Steve can’t respond to that though as Robin gives a kick sending Steve into the water.


	2. Bad Things

Billy feels the return of his ever present headache as he starts to wake up. He pulls the spare pillow over his face and groans. It’s not that he’s never been a little rough for the wear but this level is new to him. He wants to drift back asleep but that would require a miracle or medicine and Billy doesn’t believe much in either. His father taught him that a man suffers through his consequences. No crutches for pain.

_‘Medicine will make you weak. You feel that bruise and remember not to fuck with me. Understand?’_

Billy understands all right. Still does.

Blindly he paws at the nightstand expecting the glass of water he’s become accustomed to. He can’t find it though and even stranger he can’t find the nightstand either. He pauses in confusion before removing the pillow over his face and propping himself up.

His eyes dart around as he realizes he’s not in the same room he was in yesterday. It looks similar but it’s flipped around and missing a nightstand. There’s some crumpled up laundry on the floor and a desk pushed up against the window. Behind the door is a bat studded with sharp nails and propped up against the wall.

“Harrington,” Billy presumes with annoyance.

Billy finds the radio next to him lying on a tightly made up half of the bed. He furrows his brow at this. He’s got some questions for ol’ King Steve. Why a change of scenery? Why his room? Why is the bed like that? And-

_Am I wearing underwear?_

Billy shuffles himself and the blankets only to find a pair of blue and red striped boxers. The last he can recall, Billy was wearing a pair of gym shorts. He doesn’t really wear underwear either. So then why is he wearing a pair of boxers right now?

His memory flashes back to the previous night and throwing up Exorcist style on himself and the guest bed because his genius caretaker forget to bring back the bucket. He tore a stitch too didn’t he? He presses a hand to his side.

_Just a pull._

He remembers Steve whining about taking a pill and Billy giving in just to shut him up. That medication hit harder than expected though because Billy can’t remember a damn thing except-

Running water.

That’s it. Everything else is too distant and ill defined to make out. So Billy has some running water, a pair of underwear, and a different room. He’s going to need someone to fill in the blanks. He grabs the radio and hits the button making the bulky box crackle.

“Food,” Billy demands.

He releases the button and white noise ensues for a few seconds. In that time he takes in his surroundings again. This has to be Harrington’s room but it’s lacking a lot of character. Not that he knew exactly what to expect. Maybe a poster of a girl in a bikini or some movie? A basketball hanging out in the corner? He didn’t expect it to be so bare and minimal. Even from the bed he can tell that the desk has a thick layer of dust on it. It’s like he barely lives here at all.

“Repeat. Over.”

He sounds out of breath and Billy can hear a girl laughing in the back. Since when is Steve hanging around a girl?

“Food. I’m hungry. And I’m not saying over.”

“Got it…over.”

Billy waits patiently for what he’s assuming is lunch and stares at the ceiling. That fuzzy feeling he’s been getting starts to settle in. It’s kind of like when your hand falls asleep but instead it’s your brain. Whatever it is it’s welcomed by Billy. He’s not keen on thinking much about anything lately. There’s so much shit to sift through.

The door opens and the sound of it brings Billy back to his wounded and uncomfortable body. It’s going to be another week on the stitches except maybe for the one he pulled. That one might be a few extra days. The broken foot is really the biggest pain. Doctor said it might be closer to 8 weeks for that.

Steve walks in with a tray holding a sandwich and a glass of water. He’s shirtless and in a pair of swim trunks. His hair is wet and Billy can smell the chlorine coming off of him. So he’s having some kind of pool date?

“Finally,” Billy starts to chow down the second his tray is near him.

“Hey! Let me put it down, you fucking animal!”

Billy is eating so fast and in such big bites that he hardly spares a breath. He had no idea how hungry he was. His stomach claws at him as he tries to fill it. He then downs the glass of water with a thirst to match his hunger. As the water slides down his throat he notices Steve hovering. Billy belches and wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

“What!?” he barks out.

“Nothing,” Steve takes an alarmed step back.

“You don’t stare for nothing. You never seen a guy eat before?”

“No. I mean, yes, I have. I’m just surprised. You haven’t been eating much-”

“Well now I am.”

“Do you, uh,” Steve takes the tray back, “do you want more?”

Billy thinks about this for a moment. On one hand he felt like he could eat at least three more sandwiches and maybe an entire chicken and a milkshake. On the other hand he’s gone hungry for a stretch before and overdoing it is a good way to puke.

“Nah.”

Steve nods, mumbles an okay before heading toward the door.

“Stop,” Billy instructs.

Steve does exactly as he’s told, stopping just shy of the door frame. Billy can’t see his face but something makes Billy sense that Steve’s nervous.

“You fucking somebody down in that fancy pool?” Billy asks, “The former king finally getting some again?”

“Don’t talk about Robin like that,” Steve tenses in the biceps.

Billy’s grin is toothy. He’s found a button to push and it’s the most amusing thing to happen in a long time. Steve was also easy to mess with before and he’s shit in a fight. Billy can’t put his finger on why but fucking with him is a fun enough past time and he’s got plenty of time to pass.

“Robin,” Billy tastes her name seductively, “that’s a cute name. A little hippie but I’ve heard some wild stories about hippie chicks.”

Steve spins around to face Billy.

“I said don’t talk about her,” he warns.

Billy laughs.

“Come say that to my fucking face, pretty boy.”

Steve walks to the desk and sets the tray down with a loud thud. He comes to the bedside and makes angry eye contact. Billy still looks amused and intends on staying that way. He glances down at the red shorts on Steve’s body. They look baggy on him and still heavy with water like they might drop. Billy briefly debates pantsing him.

“Robin is my friend,” Steve growls a little, “Not my girlfriend. A friend. And I’m not gonna let you say shit like that about her.”

Billy goes quiet and nods. This girl is really important to Harrington. Billy might even venture she’s more important than Nancy was and that’s saying a lot. Not too long ago shit talking Nancy would get a rise out of him. Billy wonders how much more of a rise this bitch is going to get.

“So, you really care about her.” Billy starts pensively before breaking out into a wide grin, “She got a beer flavored cunt or something?”

Steve throws himself on top of Billy and straddles him. He sends a fist right into Billy’s jaw and Billy just laughs and thrills at the taste of blood in his mouth.

“That’s it!” he coaxes Steve in between wild, manic laughter, “beat the shit out of me! Fuck you and fuck your bitch!”

“SHUT UP!”

Steve grips Billy’s throat with both hands and squeezes. Billy chokes but still smiles as his face goes red. He stares at Steve. He finds himself admiring the bared teeth and the hate in his eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror.

“Do it-” he manages to get out, “Kill. Me.”

Steve lets go but still sits on Billy’s hips. His arms are flopped down to his sides and he looks at Billy, horrified. Billy wants to scream at him but he’s coughing too hard to form words.

“I-” Steve starts.

Billy takes deep breaths and lets his head come down from the high of being choked out. He goes to press a hand against Steve’s mouth to keep him from saying anything. He doesn’t want to hear it. Steve has the upper hand though and intercepts. He holds Billy’s wrist firmly.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Steve finishes.

Billy starts to cry and he hates himself for it. The sweat on his forehead and the blood from his lip combined with his tears makes him feel like a wet mess. It’d be so much easier if Steve had killed him in that moment. Then everything would go numb and he wouldn’t have to be afraid. He wouldn’t have to think. It could have been so easy.

“I want you to do it,” Billy’s voice cracks, “I want you to. I wanted it.”

Steve lowers his hand to the bed but doesn’t let go of Billy’s wrist. Billy’s pliable enough to the movement and lets Steve keep his hand there. Billy keeps his eyes closed tight and sobs.

“First you fight me,” Steve sounds like he’s trying to piece something together, “then you kiss and now you want me to kill you? I don’t get it.”

Billy stops mid sob and open his eyes. He’s suddenly very aware of how their positioned.

“What did you say?” Billy asks.

“Last night? You kissed me… do you- you don’t remember?”

Billy racks his brain for some memory of a kiss as ridiculous as it sounds.

Running water.

There’s no way.

_‘Can you wash my hair?’_

Steve has to be wrong.

_‘I like it.’_

No.

_‘I like it.’_

Billy swallows hard. Everything feels dizzy but not like before. Steve’s body is heavy on his hips and the hand on his hand is hot. He remembers and tries to think of a way to make it better.

“You didn’t have to kiss me back,” he mutters.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Steve’s hand pulls away. His leg straightens so he can get up. He’s going to leave. Billy can feel in slow motion the weight coming off of him and he panics. In a move he can’t explain he lunges his grip toward Steve’s hips and forces him to sit back down.

“What the fuck, man?!” Steve barks before trying to force his hands away, “What is wrong with you!?”

“I don’t know!” Billy yells back.

“Get off me!”

Billy lets go and he tears up again. Steve fumbles off the bed and Billy. He’s terrified of him and why wouldn’t he be? Billy realizes he’s sending out all kinds of psycho signals in different directions. Anyone would be afraid.

“I’m fucking sorry, okay?” he offers before wiping his face with the back of his hand, “I’m so fucked up. I’m really fucked up.”

Billy realizes how painfully pathetic he looks right now. Blood and tears and bandages. He’s a mess and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Death seemed like a good answer but now Billy isn’t so sure. There might be another answer and Billy is disgusted and thrilled that it might be somewhere in Steve.

Steve softens at the apology. He looks less scared but he doesn’t hazard to get any closer. Billy wants him close again. His body and his brain ache for the contact. For a fleeting moment it felt good to be touched and Billy wants it back and, despite everything he’s been taught in life, he wants more.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Steve says before turning away.

Every step that takes Steve further from Billy hits the latter in the chest. There has to be something he can say or unsay that’ll keep Steve from leaving. He could beg or bait him into another fight. He can’t leave like that.

Steve stops in the doorway.

“You’re right,” he says quietly, “I didn’t have to kiss you back but I did and maybe if you can stop being such an asshole we can talk about it.”

Steve closes the door leaving Billy alone in the dark. It’s fitting though. Billy’s always been alone. He’s always been at home in the dark. Steve’s not like that though. He’s a better man than Billy and that makes things harder. Billy’s not even sure he is a man anymore. Maybe he is just a monster.

—

Billy runs his fingers over the where the stitches were as he looks in the bathroom mirror. The skin is still tender and discolored but it managed to avoid infection. The scars are going to be ugly as sin though, just a bunch of weird circles within other circles. Billy supposes that just makes him look scarier.

_Great_, he rolls his eyes.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“You okay?” Steve asks from the other side.

“Yeah,” Billy responds before pulling his shirt back down, “I’ll be out in a second.”

Their usual rapport has lost a lot of bite in the last week. More accurately, Billy isn’t being as much of an asshole. It isn’t much of an apology but he can’t find it in himself to give Steve a real one. The fact that he’d given one fueled by a mental breakdown was a shock in itself but as far as Billy’s concerned it doesn’t count. So Billy finds forms of penance that suit him better; civil responses, saying thank you. He’s been making sure that Steve doesn’t have to touch him either now that he can use crutches.

Billy stays on the couch too. He had asked to be moved there. He gets why Steve moved him to his room. The guest mattress is trash now and Steve wouldn’t dare put Billy in his parent’s bed. Blood and puke on a guest bed? That can be explained. On their bed? There wasn’t enough excuses in the world. The couch seems like a good compromise.

Billy likes being on the ground floor. He likes his crutches. He appreciates being able to hop his way to the bathroom or the kitchen and he loves having a television. The distance did him and Steve a lot of good too. They’ve even fumbled through some decent conversations. One such conversation was filling Billy in on everything that had happened prior to his move to Hawkins and details concerning the last two major events.

Billy opens the bathroom door to find Steve standing there. Billy lifts an eyebrow and Steve takes a step back. They’ve talked about monsters and psychic powers and Russians. They’ve discussed the unbelievable and yet they still haven’t broached the subject concerning each other. Something still sits between them refusing to either grow or go.

Billy knows what that something is, at least on his end. He can feel it in the way his eyes glide across Steve’s tight shirt and jeans. He can taste it when he glances at his lip. He gravitates toward it whenever Steve does something absent mindedly nice or when his mouth practices words that his brain is running through. He won’t say what it is though. Not even to himself.

“Will and El are here,” Steve offers a half smile.

“Good.”

The bedding on the couch has been moved aside and in its stead is a curly haired girl and the Buyer’s kid with the bowl cut. Steve follows close behind and takes a seat in one of the living room’s decorative chairs. It’s twin is sitting close by with an ottoman pulled up so Billy can keep his foot elevated while they talk.

Steve reaches a hand out to take Billy’s crutches and between that and setting up a space for him Billy feels a strong need to touch him. It could just be a pat on the shoulder. He could risk that right? But he doesn’t.

“Thanks,” he manages to say before settling into his chair.

El is munching on a cookie and Will has a can of Coke in his hand. Of course Steve set up snacks for the kids. Billy would never think to do that.

“So you’re the one who’s been hijacked too,” Billy says nodding toward Will before turning to El, “and you’re…psychic.”

“It’s more being possessed than being hijack,” Will corrects.

“Not psychic now,” El mutters with her mouth full.

“Yeah, I’m sticking with ‘hijacked’ and you used to be psychic.”

El nods and Will relents on the semantics. El goes for another cookie but hesitates. She looks to Steve for permission. Steve is caught off guard by this but manages to give her the go ahead.

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” Billy assesses, “better keep an eye on it or you’ll get fat.”

Steve shoots Billy a dirty look.

“What’s fat?” El asks in between bites.

“Is she serious?” Billy laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve assures her quickly, “eat your cookies.”

“What are we doing here?” Will suddenly demands, “You wanted to talk so can we please get to the point?”

He’s got much more backbone than Billy was expecting. Maybe being possessed by a multidimensional creature can bring out good qualities too. If there’s any good brought out in Billy he sure as shit doesn’t see it. He’s still angry, still violent. He can’t articulate anything beyond an insult or a sexual advance. He now comes equipped with guilt and crying fits and he wouldn’t call that an improvement.

Billy looks to Steve and attempts to send a message with just his eyes.

_I can’t ask. Help._

The message is received because Steve sighs and takes over the conversation for him.

“Will, Billy would like to know what it’s like after being possessed. Like if he should keep an eye out for anything.”

“Not really,” Will laments, “unless it comes back.”

Billy feels unbridled fear start to rage in his gut. It didn’t occur to him that this thing could come back. If it does will it come after him again? It made him do some God awful things even by Billy’s standards.

Will senses the shared fear between them.

“Don’t worry,” he says a little softer, “if it comes back you’ll know it and you can keep away from it. You’ll feel your hair on your neck stand up and- you’ll know it I promise. And if you think you might feel it you can ask me. I know the feeling really well.”

Billy nods. So he’s like a metal detector but the metal is literal nightmares. Somehow it doesn’t surprise him. With this kid sitting across from him though, he wonders if it’s all that bad but then the Mind Flayer didn’t force Will to feed people to it.

“And you,” Billy turns to El, “I just want to know how much you know.”

“Know?”

It’s surreal to know that Billy has had two other entities in his head other than him and at the same time. El’s presence was a God send though and the only reason he broke free when he did. The rest of it came down to timing and if things hadn’t aligned so perfectly Billy was sure he would have died. Sometimes he feels like he was supposed to.

“About me,” Billy clarifies, “You told Harrington that I couldn’t go home. Why?”

El’s jaw tightens. There’s something ethereal about her despite the fact that she’s clearly just a little girl. Her aura reads as something otherworldly and if Billy were any one else he might be spooked by it.

“Bad guy,” she answers with her unique stoicism.

_She means me. Fuck she saw everything that thing made me do._

“Hey I saved your ass!” Billy defends himself.

“No! I save your ass!” El yells back, “Your dad is like Papa!”

“What does that fucking mean?”

Billy looks to Steve but Steve is just as confused. Steve doesn’t have an expansive knowledge on El. Apparently it starts at psychic powers and ends at knowing her snack preferences. Will clears his throat to break the pause.

“I think she’s saying that your dad is like the man who used to be her dad. The government one before Hopper took her in,” Will attempts to explain.

El is surprised by this. Billy’s not sure what that expression means. He knows that El is staying with the Byers now or at least he can assume since Steve only made one phone call to get both kids. Billy notices that Will won’t look at El. He doesn’t speak directly to her either.

He’s like me when Max first showed up.

“Is that what you’re saying?” Steve addresses El, “That Billy’s dad is a bad guy?”

“Very bad.”

Steve gets visibly nervous.

“Is he government bad? Is he after Billy? What kind of bad are we talking?”

“Harrington,” Billy interrupts , “Two things. First, shut it. Second, take the boy outside and give us a minute.”

Steve hesitates to argue with Billy. Billy pushes another message to him with a look.

_I swear I’m not going to hurt her._

Billy’s sure he can see the ‘okay’ being sent back to him.

“Is that okay with you?” Steve then asks her.

She nods. Steve calls Will to the back door. When the two of them leave the room feels too quiet. Billy isn’t sure how he wants to go about this. It’s too painful to be straight forward about his piece of shit dad. He’s never mentioned it to anyone. There wasn’t a point where it ever felt safe to. But she knows and Billy needs to know to what extent.

“Tell me about this ‘papa’ of yours.”

El’s hands form tight fists. She shakes her head.

“Shit, that bad,” Billy remarks.

She looks furious but she doesn’t cower. If anything she seems stronger than anyone Billy’s had the pleasure of conversing with. She also doesn’t respond. Billy understands that. Not everyone wants to share their demons.

“I don’t talk about my shitty dad either. I won’t ask about yours if you swear never to breathe a word about mine.”

El takes this into consideration but beyond that there’s no reading her. She’s nothing like Max who might as well be an unintentionally open book. She’s got more trauma than that ginger brat could ever imagine that’s for sure. The worst thing in Max’s little life-

_Is me._

“What about mama?” El asks quietly.

“You know she’s gone,” Billy says through gritted teeth and tries to hold his temper.

“Mine too.”

The two of them should start a club.

“I’ve heard good things about that Byers woman,” Billy surprises even himself with this one, “She’s a freak like the rest of them but she cares. She’ll probably take good care of you.”

Billy is shaken by the sound of El whimpering. She’s got two heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. Billy’s throat goes dry. He has no idea what to do with a crying kid. He’s got no experience on how to comfort another human being. It’s been too long since anyone’s shown him how.

“H-hey,” he makes a feeble attempt, “Being in a freak family isn’t so bad. It’s still a family, right?”

“I- I like Joyce,” she sputters, “I miss Hop.”

Now she looks small, practically dwarfed by grief. Anger means nothing to her sense of strength but loss? Loss of a loved one hits her harder than any violence or neglect ever could. She knows what it means to be loved even though she hasn’t been loved for a very long time.

“Steve,” he calls, “Steve I need backup here!”

Steve comes rushing back inside and looks at an upset El then to a confused Billy. Billy internally screams out an S.O.S.

What do I do?

“What happened?” Steve asks.

Billy doesn’t have the words to explain and shrugs helplessly. Steve, finally getting how useless Billy is here, sits next to El cautiously. She rests her face in her hands, her elbows placed on the pale denim of her shorts. She’s got chipped nail polish on the fingers cradling her face. They’re light pink.

“Okay-” he puts a hand on her shoulder.

Before he can get any further El turns into the touch and cries into his chest. Steve awkwardly pats her on the back. He doesn’t even realize how good he is at this whole ‘taking care of people’ thing. Sure, he’s not the most articulate or insightful but he’s comforting. El starts to calm down and she sits up again. Steve pats her on the shoulder one more time.

“You let it all out?” he asks, “You good?”

She nods and sniffles.

“Good. I’m going to get Will and I’ll get you home.”

As Steve passes by, Billy can see him doing that quirk of his. He’s mouthing words about something. He wonders what he’s rehearsing for now. He’s probably trying to figure out what Billy said to make a little girl cry. Billy doesn’t know either to be honest.

Once Steve’s gone El quietly gets up and puts her hand on Billy’s. She looks older now and wise in a timeless sort of way. She’s so complex for someone so young and she towers over Billy as she stands there.

“I did bad too,” she says, “but I am not bad. You are not bad. I know you are not bad.”

Steve comes back in with Will before Billy has the chance to think about that statement. Not that he has a response for it.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks, sensing something between the other two.

El takes her hand back and gives Billy a nod as if to assure him of what she’s said. Maybe it’s a form of blessing even. Billy can’t help but question what she meant by her doing bad. Had she killed people too? Did something or someone make her? Did she do it all on her own? Did it matter? Despite her actions her character remains intact and she’s good. Billy can sense it.

“Actually, Harrington,” Billy pauses, “I need to ask Will something. I’ll send him out to the car in a minute.”

“Fine,” Steve gives, “but if he comes back crying you’re fired as a babysitter.”

“I’m nobody’s babysitter. He’ll be fine.”

The second Billy has Will alone he stares him down like he might just get up out of the chair and kick his ass broken foot and all.

“What?” Will asks, his voice somewhere between irritated and scared.

“I came home one day and suddenly I had a sister,” Billy started out slow, “so I get why you’re being an asshole about it.”

“What are you talking about-”

“Let me finish or so help me God I’m going to give you this advice with my fist instead.”

Will bites the inside of his cheek but he stays quiet.

“Don’t. Be. An asshole. She’s going through shit too and if you act like an ass about it you’ll regret it. Trust me.”

Will doesn’t say anything but Billy can tell he’s gotten the point. Billy may not be able to say things nicely but not being nice doesn’t mean he has to bad. Maybe there’s a way to make peace with bad things. Maybe he just has to start small; save a decent kid from making a mistake. It beats the hell out of staring at ceilings and wanting to die at least.

—

“Just tell me what you talked about,” Steve asks for the hundredth time, “Maybe if you do I can help you figure out why you made her cry.”

“I did not make her cry!” Billy growls.

The two of them are sitting on the couch together. The news channel babbles in the background and it smells of microwave TV dinners. The fried chicken is soggy but Billy’s never been one to turn away a free meal. Food is food.

“Well something did and if Joyce asks me about it I need an answer.”

Billy wants to place a hand on each side of Steve’s face and squeeze until his head pops. He’s been at this all day. It’s the only thing he wants to talk about. Billy even tried to take a nap to get him to back off only to wake up and find him hovering like a creep.

“Parents,” he mutters as he tries to stare at the news banner running at the bottom of the screen, “we talked about parents.”

“Oh.”

Steve’s food is only half eaten. Of course he’s wasteful like that. He practically lives in a mansion. He’s probably gotten everything he’s ever wanted and more. He sees nothing wrong with throwing food aside. He probably doesn’t know what it means to lose hearing in an ear for a few days because he didn’t finish his plate.

“Oh?” Billy’s offense takes center stage, “You won’t shut up all day and now all you have to say is ‘oh’?”

“…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

In the grand scheme of things, his parental issues should be nothing in comparison to his recent trauma. Being possessed and committing mass murder has to be ranked higher than being abandoned and smacked around. But maybe that’s what made Billy so appealing to that creature though. Maybe it felt the violence sewn into him and maybe all it did was cultivate it.

“Did you talk about your mom?”

Billy practically gets whiplash from how quickly he turns his head toward Steve.

“What the fuck do you know about my mom?”

“Easy there,” Steve holds up a hand in defense, “you told me.”

“The fuck I did!”

“You did! I swear!” Steve insists before getting flustered, “It was that one night. Y’know the one you don’t remember very well?”

Oh. Billy swallows hard.

“We could, um, talk about that, if you want.”

“Are you sure I’m not too much of an asshole?”

Billy hates himself for responding like that. He wants to talk but he couldn’t initiate that conversation if his life had depended on it. Here’s the opportunity now and like the self destructive idiot Billy is he’s already blowing holes in that opportunity.

“You’re less of an ass,” Steve offers.

“…I’m listening.”

Steve fills in the last of the blanks from that evening. He went to give Billy a bath. Billy was too high for a bath. He reminisced about his mom giving him baths and asked to have his hair washed. Steve obliged, Billy made lewd comments and a kiss ensued. Steve pulled away. Billy and taunted him.

“And then you kissed me,” Billy states, refusing to make any eye contact whatsoever.

Steve’s in the same position, choosing instead to be fixated on what’s left of his food on the coffee table.

“I did.”

More silence. Billy grimaces. They’re getting nowhere with this. Is there any point then? Billy might as well go back to being confrontational and rude. His attempt at manners had amounted to nothing. All of this is for nothing. They were better off ignoring it.

“I have a question but I don’t want to piss you off,” Steve breaks the silence.

“You always piss me off. Ask anyway.”

“Your mom, you said she was gone but you didn’t say if she like left or-”

“She left.”

“Right.”

Billy notices that Steve doesn’t offer condolences. That makes it easier for Billy to breathe. Part of the reason he doesn’t volunteer this information is because he can’t stand the idea of other people apologizing for her. The idea of anyone saying sorry on her behalf makes him want to puke.

“She left me alone with my shit heel of a dad. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might. A little.”

Billy doubts that. Before Nancy Wheeler broke Steve’s heart he probably knew nothing but silver spoons and a golden crown. A little heartbreak doesn’t compare to the stuff Billy’s dealt with. And so what if Steve’s beat up a couple of monsters and took down some Russians? He’s a hero for it. It hardly counts as trauma.

“Sure you do.”

“My dad’s a shit heel too, trust me.”

“Really?”

Billy turns as much as he can to face Steve. He wants to burn this glare into his soul.

“So when did you learn to start wearing sunglasses to hide a black eye? Or how to walk in and out of rooms like a church mouse so you wouldn’t get a fist to the stomach? When was the first time you were locked out all night in the middle of winter? Because I know. I remember everything that fucker taught me. He made sure I did.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve furrows his brows.

“You’re clueless. You live in an ivory tower, pretty boy. I bet your mommy read you bedtime stories and your daddy taught you how to catch when he threw shit at you.”

“My mom’s idea of a bedtime story is making me read the ingredients off a packet of peanuts.”

Steve puts his back against the armrest of the couch and crosses his legs. A single couch cushion keeps the distance between them. Billy notices the way Steve’s stomach dimples when he sits but then it’s hard not to since Steve’s shirt cuts off just under the nipple. Billy wouldn’t be caught dead in a shirt like that. Why wear half a shirt when you can be shirtless? But Billy then remembers his incoming scars and decides full shirts are good too.

“My dad-” Steve laughs bitterly, “My dad never locked me out but he did lock me in.”

“So you got grounded, whatever.”

“No. See, in first grade I heard other kids talking about Take Your Son to Work Day and I thought ‘Hey! I’m a son. I should try that.’ I begged my mom who somehow got my dad to agree to it.”

Billy wants to make a sarcastic comment here but he reigns it back. He has to keep asking himself; what would someone decent do? What would Steve do? He’d sit and listen if the roles were reversed so Billy tries to do the same.

“I ended up sitting with his secretary. She told me to wait until my dad came to get me and not to interrupt him and then she took an early day. I can’t remember why. I think maybe her dog got out and a neighbor called? Or maybe an aunt died? I don’t know.”

Steve brushes a knuckle across his eye and takes a pause. Billy’s never seen him broken up over something and he’s surprised by how quiet and bottled up he is about it.

“Sorry, I’ll get to the point.”

Billy struggles to be patient but sticks the landing. He gives a nod of encouragement.

“I got bored so I took a nap under her desk and when I woke up: all the lights were off and everyone was gone. That mother fucker forgot me. I spent the night there locked in and I couldn’t even call anyone because I didn’t understand the secretary’s phone.

She’s the one who found me in the morning, by the way. A-and she drove me to school and told me not to say anything about this to either of my parents. Because she could get fired. But they didn’t know and they still don’t. Their five year old doesn’t come home one night and neither of them even noticed.”

That makes sense of a lot of things. His former status as high school royalty; he needed the attention. How he ditched all that notoriety for the first skirt to see him as a person; he wanted to be loved more than he wanted attention. It even explains how he ended up adopting his gaggle of children; because someone should always be there to make sure that kids are safe and never ever forgotten.

Billy’s not stupid. In fact, he’s brilliant and he can read people easily. He sees the strings attached to people’s actions and their motives, their trauma. Sure, he usually weaponizes that information because being intuitive doesn’t mandate being kind.

Billy can think of a million ways to hurt Steve with this information. The insults are endless and the manipulation is ripe. If he wanted he could have Steve on his knees in mere minutes and keep him there for a lifetime.

_‘You are not bad. I know you are not bad.’_

El’s words sink into his conscience. Billy’s not bad. He doesn’t have to be bad. But if he’s not bad then what is he? How do you decide to be something else?

“God, I wanna fuck you up,” Billy says out loud.

“What?”

Steve’s eyes rim with tears that won’t come down. He’s still holding back. Billy pushes past his urge to bring those tears down.

“But I think your old man and that bitch of a mom you got fucked you up enough.”

It’s the best Billy can do and he’s trying. Jesus Christ is he trying. None of this is natural and he’s exercising patience and empathy; things he hasn’t known in a really long time. So he doesn’t have the vocabulary down yet. He can learn. Maybe.

Steve starts to chuckle and then rolls into an honest to God laugh.

“You’re such a dick,” he sighs with a smile.

“I’m just speaking your language, Harrington,” Billy smiles back.

They spend the rest of the evening in silence but for the first time it’s comfortable. Eventually Billy falls asleep with Steve still sitting next to him. It’s the second time he doesn’t have any nightmares. The first was that night he took his pain killers and woke up on a bed with half of it made up in military corners. Billy wonders as he drifts off where Steve slept that night. He amuses himself that maybe he slept next to him then, on top of that severely made half. Close but not close enough to be in danger of contact. Maybe one day they could do this without any barriers. Billy thinks maybe he wouldn’t hate that.


	3. Stay or Go

“Mr. Harrington?” the nurse at the doctor’s office asks.**  
**

Steve startles and drops the old magazine he’d been pretending to look at. Billy is at his eight week check up and there’s no telling if he’s going to come out with a cast or not. Steve’s spent God knows how long in the lobby weighing both outcomes. If the cast stays on then that objectively sucks and if it comes off then great! Right?

But they had developed a routine in the past few weeks and that routine has been running through Steve’s mind.They’d wake up and Billy would try to bark out instructions to Steve on how to make a proper breakfast. Steve knows how to fry an egg now but he still burns the bacon. Billy gives him shit for it every time but sometimes he mutters a compliment on the eggs. 

Billy then naps while Robin comes over for pool time. Billy fixes up lunch and leaves Steve’s out on the coffee table while Steve showers. Billy then showers while Steve eats. Steve and Billy play a game of cards; sometimes poker. It depends on whether Dustin’s over for dinner or not and, surprise, Dustin’s amazing at poker.

Then Billy and Steve settle in on the couch. They watch TV and talk. Sometimes they talk about their childhoods. Sometimes it’s about their pasts. Sometimes it’s just giving each other shit but in a good way. Other times they just let the TV do the talking for them. It ends the same, they both fall asleep on that same couch. They don’t talk about that part though because Billy’s always waiting in the kitchen by the time Steve wakes up.

“Mr. Harrington,” the nurse repeats, “Your friend asked me to give you his discharge paperwork.”

“Discharge? Is he-”

“Read the paper, Mr. Harrington,” the Nurse replies.

Steve does just that but his eyes are manic as they haphazardly search for an answer.

_Ibuprofen as needed._

_Follow up in two weeks._

_Low level activity._

_…low level activity!_

The door opens and Billy’s standing on the other side, cast free. Billy smiles brightly at Steve and slowly makes his way across the lobby. He has a limp and he’s carrying both cruthces in one hand.

“Doc says he’s never seen someone recover so well,” he smiles, “and my teachers always said I’d amount to shit.”

“Mr. Hargrove,” the nurse warns with an even temper, “language please.”

Billy’s previously injured leg looks so pale and it’s leaner than the other. It’s not a dramatic difference and maybe it’s just Steve’s brain overcompensating for the bulky cast. Billy’s wearing both of his boots now and it looks hilarious paired with his shorts.

“You need jeans,” Steve laughs.

“Ya think?” Billy bites back.

The biting and snapping is so different now than it was before. Before it felt like handling the violent outbursts of a wild animal. Now it’s harmless, playful even. It reminds Steve of how puppies play with each other. Not that he would dare tell Billy that he makes Steve think of puppies. Teasing aside there’s still boundaries.

Steve keeps an eye on Billy and matches his pace. He can’t help it. He’s gotten accustomed to going Billy’s speed. They get to the car.

“Keys,” Billy demands, “I’m driving.”

Steve doesn’t question it and tosses them over. They load up and Steve has butterflies in his stomach. Billy adjusts the radio and then peels out from the parking lot.

Steve’s chest feels heavy because he isn’t sure where they’re going.

He doubts that Billy is going back to his dad’s place. For a while, Steve thought he might go back for Max but he doesn’t need to. Billy understood that since she was willing to stand up to him she is definitely prepared to stand up to her father too. But even then, if that excuse for a father figure ever lays a finger on Max, Billy’s going to do something about it.

‘I’m not afraid of shit anymore’ Steve remembers him saying one night. Steve made him promise not to do anything that would send him to prison. Billy found a compromise; he wouldn’t do anything that would get him life in prison. That was the best Steve could hope for.

Steve feels his breath hitch whenever they come to a turn but so far they’re following the same route back. There’s a little thrill as the car curves around the corner the way he hoped it would.

“You okay?” Billy asks before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah.”

“Then why do you have your head out the window like a dog?”

Steve brings himself back to an appropriate position.

“I’m trying to not to throw up,” he covers, “You drive like a maniac.”

Billy laughs and speeds up. They come up to a light and it turns yellow but Billy doesn’t slow down.

“Billy…” Steve warns.

The light turns red and Billy floors it.

“BILLY!”

Billy whoops in excitement as they get through the light unscathed. A series of angry car horns sing behind them. Steve unfolds his arms and legs from the ball he’d formed on instinct.

“You’re insane!”

“Nah, I’m free, baby!”

So much for being harmless, Steve thinks as his heart rate goes back to normal.

Billy pulls up to the Harrington residence. He shuts off the car and the radio cuts off leaving a silence between them. Neither of them gets out of the car right away. Billy squeezes the steering wheel and Steve taps his fingers on his knees.

“So you’re better now,” Steve tests the waters.

“Yup.”

“You’ve got both legs.”

Billy nods but his eyebrow is raised in suspicion. Steve can tell he’s irritating him but he can’t stop.

“You can go anywhere and do whatever.”

“Is there a point here?” Billy says with a tight jaw.

“So stay.”

It comes out quick and painfully on the nose. Steve catches a quick glance at Billy and the wide eyes looking back make him want to curl back into a ball. He could be setting himself up for a different kind of collision and unlike Billy there’s no sense of high in it.

“If you want,” Steve tries to tone it down, “You don’t have to but- you staying would be, uh, good.”

_I used to be smooth once_, Steve laments internally, _I used to be cool_.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch anymore,” Billy says after a moment passes.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.”

Steve’s chest is no longer heavy but instead has the curious sensation of being split right down the middle. Billy’s refusing the couch which must mean he’s not staying. It was stupid to think he would. Did Steve honestly think they were… well, at minimum, friends? He must have misread something along the way. Maybe all their routine came down to was tolerance. Now there’s no reason to tolerate anything anymore. Billy’s free to be wherever he wants to be.

“You can’t make up the bed tight either,” Billy complains, “That shit looked like military quarters on one side. If I wanted to sleep in some rigid crap like that I’d have joined the army.”

“…what?”

“I’m not spelling it out for you,” Billy gets out the car and slams the door shut behind him.

God knows Billy never does. Steve does understand what he’s saying though. He’s gotten good at decoding the way Billy expresses things. Everything comes out in sharp edges but if it’s filtered right Steve can hear some amazing and unexpected things; sympathy, kindness, affection… vulnerability. At the moment, it sounds like Billy is wanting to stay and not like he was staying before.

Steve knows what the bed reference is towards. The night that Billy was high and he needed a different bed Steve absolutely stayed in that bed with him. It may have seemed like a weird impulse given the kiss that preceded it but Steve was worried. It didn’t seem right to leave Billy alone. He slept on top of the covers though. He didn’t want them touching then. He didn’t trust it.

Steve fumbles over his seatbelt and manages to meet up with Billy. He’s leaning against the front door and already smoking a second cigarette. He puffs away at it anxiously but the expression on his face is stern. Steve gets closer than he’s dared to before, maybe an inch away. He’s close enough to touch him and he finds it infuriating that he wants to.

“Look,” Steve says, trying to wear Billy down with a serious gaze, “I know that you’re not good at saying what you mean and normally I get it anyway. And I think I get what you’re saying now but I need to know because if I do this, if we do this, it has to be for sure.”

“Know what?” Billy say before taking another drag.

Steve’s been dancing around his own feelings for two months, constantly in and out of what can only be described as a gay panic. It had been exhausting. Ultimately, he settled on acknowledging what Billy makes him feel but not acting on it unless Billy initiates it again. It felt less complicated that way. Now that initial move has been made… probably. Steve needs the clarity and for the first time in their new rapport he’s demanding it.

“Did you just ask to sleep in my bed? With me?”

Billy puts on his best ‘fuck you’ grin before blowing out a slow, steady stream of smoke into Steve’s face.

“Okay,” Steve rolls his eyes and starts to turn away.

It could have been easy to stop right there. They could let all of this go and write it off as a bad joke. Steve could go back into that house and dance around hidden signals and off remarks for God knows how many more months. Or maybe that was the clarity he needed. Billy doesn’t reciprocate and his cryptic shit really isn’t so cryptic.

_Fuck that_, Steve decides.

He literally grabs the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth and before Billy can be pissed about it he pins him to the door with his forearm. The cigarette lands in the dirt and Steve can’t tell why his blood is boiling. Is it because he’s mad? Or because he’s finally touching Billy? Or both?

“Tell me what you want,” Steve growls, “or get the fuck out of my house.”

Billy looks furious but Steve stands his ground. Even if Billy decides to kick his ass and take off with his car at least Steve will know where they stand. He’s done playing games.

“Kiss me,” Billy says through bared teeth.

Steve does a mental double take. He brings his arm down so Billy isn’t trapped against the door anymore.

“Really?”

“Am I speaking goddamn Spanish!?” Billy shouts, “Fucking do it alre-”

Billy doesn’t get to finish because Steve’s lips are on his mouth and it feels good. It feels better than the last time and different. Billy isn’t playing casanova. In fact, the something almost shy about him.

Steve stick a leg in between Billy’s as he plants his hands on either side of his head. Billy moans into the movement and Steve swears that he’s melting like butter under him. Billy hooks a hand into the front of Steve’s jeans and pulls him even closer.

This is happening. In broad daylight. With everyone sober. Steve’s whole body wants to crash into Billy’s. It’s a hunger and an inevitable gravity.

Steve detours his kisses along Billy’s jaw and lands on his neck. He gets to work on leaving a mark because Steve can’t stand the idea of not marking him. That primal part of his mind goads him into it. He’s gentle at first but builds into a hard bite. The animal in him pushes further and he starts rutting against Billy.

“Fuck,” Billy murmurs pleasantly.

_God yes_, Steve thinks as Billy’s sounds curl up into him and caresses his every nerve.

“Fuck,” Billy groans again before his tone shifts, “Wait. Fuck! No, hey!”

Billy pushes Steve away hard. It feels like being cut off in the middle of a current. He doesn’t understand at first. He tries to think why Billy would stop. What in God’s name could have stopped that?

Did…did someone see us? Is someone else here!?

Steve panics. He knows what it means to have a certain kind of hate. He knows how violent that hate can get. He looks around frantically and steps back.

“I am NOT your bitch, Harrington!” Billy screams out, “You touch me like that again and I’ll fucking kill you!”

Dumbstruck, Steve tries to cultivate a response. This wasn’t even in the realm of possible reasons to stop what they were doing but here it is anyway. No danger. Just insecurity.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-”

“Fuck you!”

The heartbreak settles in now. He wasn’t trying to treat Billy in any kind of way except well. What did he do wrong? Was he too aggressive? Too dominant? The last thing he wanted to do was give Billy a reason to push him away and then he literally pushes him away. Billy’s back to biting and clawing and not in the good way. He’s feral again and Steve desperately wants to go back just a handful of seconds. Billy was so close to being okay with all of this.

“Billy… I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly, “We can do this different. Or not at all if you’re not okay. I don’t- I never ever want to make you feel shitty, okay? Never.”

Billy takes this in and lights up another cigarette. He sits down on the front steps leading up to the door and blows a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth. Steve cautiously sits down next to him. The concrete is hot under him and he imagines that it’s not very comfortable for Billy either. But Billy doesn’t let on.

“What do you wanna do?” Steve asks.

Billy straightens out his formerly injured leg. He very slowly and purposefully moves the toe of his shoe out and back. Another long drag and Steve’s wondering if Billy’s ever going to talk again.

“-ry,” Billy whispers so quietly that only the last syllable is audible.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s an apology. Steve was expecting another argument, another round of silence. He’s not sure how to respond yet.

“I’m new to this gay shit,” Billy continues.

“Me too,” Steve chimes in quickly.

Billy drops his cigarette down and grinds it out with his boot. He turns toward Steve and attempts eye contact. He then immediately drops it and turns back.

“I’ve never-” he looks like talking is both embarrassing and painful, “I don’t get involved with people. Y’know, with feelings and shit. I think it’s fucking stupid.”

This isn’t helping Steve’s heartache at all.

“But you’re not stupid.”

Billy offers his hand palm up, fingers spread. He doesn’t look at Steve but his hand stays open and waiting. They could have more of a conversation but this feels pretty clear.

Steve mimics Billy’s eye line. They both stare off into the distance with cool expressions. Steve then crosses his wrist on top of Billy’s and laces their fingers together.

—-

“I have a job!”

Steve shouts his news as he enters his parent’s house. He races to the living room and manages to hop over the back of the couch. He lands with a flop next to Billy who’s got his nose in a newspaper.

“I have a job,” Steve repeats with a smile, “and my only uniform is a vest.”

“Don’t phrase shit like that. Sounds like you’re only wearing a vest. Like no pants or something.”

“I didn’t think of it like that but not wearing pants would sweeten the deal.”

“You don’t have the balls to go out naked in public,” Billy mutters as circles one of the ads in the paper.

Steve laughs.

“I used to,” he points out, “but streaking lost its high in junior year.”

Steve moves in closer to Billy. The spaces between them always feel so heavy and there’s only ever room between them for conversation or kissing. 

Last night they slept together in Steve’s bed and before they drifted off they had made out for hours. They didn’t speak a word to each other though and that was for the better. Talking about it muddled things by bringing attention to details Steve wasn’t sure they could handle. Or more accurately details that Billy can’t handle. Steve feels like he’s adjusting fairly well to the whole liking another guy thing.

Nonetheless, Steve can recall the heat and sweat of last night in quick flashes. Billy still smells the same, a sweet sort of musk. Steve wants so badly to press his lips into where Billy’s shoulder meets neck but he has to be cautious. Now isn’t the right time.

“You find some leads?” Steve distracts himself with the task at hand.

A few spots have been circled on the wanted page: box boy for the local grocery store, assistant to a mechanic, and-

“Police officer?” Steve asks incredulously.

Billy snaps the newspaper back to himself. He wasn’t expecting Steve to read over his shoulder. He hadn’t been expecting him to be so close really.

“You don’t think I could be a cop?”

“I didn’t know you wanted-“

“Who fucking says I _want _to?”

There are days where it feels like it’s never going to get easier with him. In fact, Steve catches himself wondering briefly if they ever really move forward at all. Any time he thinks he’s getting close enough toward- well whatever it is they’re gravitating toward - they slip back a bit. It’s always Billy too. Steve tries but it’s like Billy gets skittish… in a loud and yelling sort of way.

“I think it might be helpful. To be a cop. That’s all.”

“How?”

“You’re a real dumbass sometimes,” Billy narrows his eyes but settles down:

“Then enlighten me, oh wise one,” Steve bites back with just the right amount of sarcasm.

It works and Billy relaxes.

“Shit happens here. A lot. The only cop any of you know is dead so-“

“You want to replace Hop?”

“I want to be useful,” he says it quietly and stares at the floor intently.

“I’ve been on the other end of your right hook. You’re more than useful.”

Billy mumbles something but Steve can’t catch it under the gravel of the other boy’s natural tone. He leans into Billy’s space to hear him better.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Billy notes quickly while keeping still.

“I really didn’t.”

“Fucking hell! I said-“

Billy turns to face Steve and he’s suddenly very close. So often he moves in wild and unpredictable ways but the speed with which he moves and the suddenness he’s stopped could give a man whiplash. His nose is just an inch from Steve’s. When he meets his eyes they become soft, almost bashful.

“- I’m sorry…for hitting you back then. I’m sorry”

Steve doesn’t dare to break their shared gaze. It has that hot and thick feeling to it. It’s both intoxicating and important. He swears there’s a cheesy love song playing distantly in the background but he waves it off as just being in his mind.

This is the second apology Steve’s gotten. Something about Billy saying sorry knocks the air out of Steve. Even now he’s trying to steady himself in the wake of it and the sudden tension.

“Make it up to me,” Steve finds the perfect tone between a demand and a request.

Billy responds to it by cupping a hand to Steve’s face. His fingers feel warm against Steve’s cheek and he wants more.

“You got my eye pretty bad,” he elaborates.

Billy guides the back of Steve’s head into a slight tilt down. He gives a gentle kiss over his left brow.

“And the mouth. You drew blood.”

Billy moves gracefully to the corner of Steve’s mouth. He leaves a kiss there before moving to the middle and kissing Steve softly and languidly.

“And my ribs,” Steve complains between kisses.

“I know.”

It’s a tender concession. Steve is enthralled by this version of Billy: the side of him that is sweet, compliant even, and wanting.

Billy presses his body weight into Steve and Steve adjusts so he’s lying on his back. Billy’s on top of him. Steve allows it as Billy follows the map Steve’s given him. He lifts Steve’s shirt and wordlessly leaves his apologies on his rib cage. He then starts moves to his abs and Steve can’t deny the growing arousal and how Billy is purposeful getting closer to it.

Steve’s head is swimming. He can only hope for what he thinks is coming to him but he doesn’t dare interrupt or confirm. He’s letting Billy set the pace. Billy has the power here and Steve’s okay with that. Steve doesn’t need power like Billy does.

If Steve had been paying more attention he would have known that the music he heard earlier was not in his head. In fact it had been playing in the other room. If he wasn’t letting his thoughts wander into less PG territory he would have heard that music shut off or he would have heard a door open and maybe he would have heard footsteps. But he didn’t. The only thing Steve and Billy hear is the very loud outburst from Max as El stands next to her watching the two of them with a confused expression.

“OH MY GOD!” Max keeps yelling, “OH MY GOD! OH GOD!”

So much for third base.

—-

Steve can hear Billy and Max having it out downstairs. Steve thought the girl’s massive freak out would make it difficult to pull her best friend away but it didn’t. El seems to understand that the siblings needed to talk- or yell technically.

Now El is sitting at Steve’s lifelong neglected study desk with the chair spun out so she can see him leaning against the wall by the door. Neither of them can make out words from the noises downstairs but the emotions are certainly audible.

“So,” Steve begins, “You and Max hanging out here now?”

“Not enough room at Joyce’s house,” El notes, “And Max’s house is too empty. She says it is like a ghost house.”

Steve feels a sharp pain at the idea of Max being lonely. He knows that Billy wasn’t great company but he was company nonetheless.

“Billy said it is okay. Is it okay?”

Steve doesn’t mind any of his gaggle of children hanging around. In fact, he feels better with them here instead of getting into trouble. He wasn’t expecting Billy to offer their place up to Max and El as a retreat though.

“Of course you can hang out here. Our casa es su casa.”

A confusing wave of feelings smack into Steve has he realizes that he just self referred to his home as belonging to both himself and Billy.

El brings her legs up to sit crisscross in the chair. She’s got a scraped knee on her left side. She’s that age. The age where you can have a boyfriend and a scraped knee. Steve is awkwardly aware of how little she may know about what she saw. Or worse, how much she does know.

“So, Billy and I-“

“Is Max okay?”

“She will be. She’s just surprised.”

“Bad surprise?”

“Well,” Steve attempts to explain, “Not bad. Maybe bad for her? But it’s not bad. I don’t think.”

Steve realizes how hard it is to explain something when the person explaining isn’t even sure about the explanation.

Steve sighs and slides down to sitting on the floor. El has a calculating look on her face. Steve wishes that her weird intuition would fill in the blanks for him. When she starts to speak, Steve puts hope in that silly wish.

“Max did not know that you and Billy want to get married?”

Steve manages to choke on air.

“What!?”

El explains that Chief Hopper once sat down with her and explained that sometimes adults who aren’t married sometimes date. That dating sometimes leads to living together. Usually when that happens the adults want to get married and sometimes do.

“…and then sometimes they do something only adults do and there is a baby,” El concludes.

Steve holds his head up with a hand covering his mouth. He’s nodding like El is making perfect sense but internally he’s screaming.

“You are Billy are adults-“

God that sounds weird out loud to Steve but she’s right. Billy and Steve are both eighteen. A few more months and Steve will actually be nineteen. Steve doesn’t necessarily feel like an adult though. He’s had sex and worked a job. Neither of those things feel exclusive to adulthood. How do you know you’re a real adult?

“-and you live together,” El continues.

It occurs to Steve that maybe Hopper never used the words ‘man and woman’ in his talk. He must have leaned on the word ‘adult’ in the hopes of El taking home the message that only grown ups do these things and she’s a child therefore she can’t do them. Not the best or most informed sex talk but that had to have been the intent.

“Ah! Yes okay,” Steve decides to define it more, “So, yes we live together-“

“And you were kissing.”

“Billy and I can’t get married,” Steve says quickly to gloss over El’s interjection.

This gives the girl pause. She sits up a bit straighter and fixes Steve with a concerned look. 

“Can’t?”

“Well… no. It’s against the law.”

El looks completely lost. He brow is knit. Steve is starting to sweat and he wants so badly to leave this conversation. El doesn’t see the problem with Billy and Steve kissing and living together. Hell, she thinks they might get married. Steve wishes more people were like her. He wishes he was like her.

“Most people,” his voice wavers a little, “are used to only boys and girls, men and women, kissing. That’s what they call normal.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to face that reality. He wants it to stay quarantined in his bedroom. It’s safe there and the world outside is so… not safe.

“They don’t understand when boys like other boys or girls like girls or a man with a man or- you get it?”

El nods.

“So if they see that or they hear about it or they even think it, they get really angry.”

_This is my life now. This is what can happen if we stay together._

Steve’s throat is closing up and he struggles hard to keep going. El gets up from her chair and sits in front of Steve.

“Sometimes they get so angry that they hurt people. People like…me. And they get really angry, like kill someone angry. I know because I used to be angry too.”

Steve wants a time machine. He wants to take back every single utterance of the words “queer” and “fag.” God, what if they actually were gay? He made them feel like this. Like nothing feels safe. Like wanting to die.

Steve feels tears crawling up through the limited space in his throat. He holds them there. He doesn’t like to cry. He won’t do it.

“It’s called being gay,” he forces himself to breathe, “and people call you bad words for it. Fag. Queer.”

Steve drops his chin to his chest. He grabs fistfuls if his hair. He wants to scream. He wants to beat the shit out of himself. Because he’s been the asshole throwing punches and calling names. And now he’ll be on the other end.

“I’m such a piece of shit” he finally laments.

“No.”

Steve looks up. His nose is congested and his ears feel hot and tired. On reflex he eases the grip on his hair.

“No?” he asks.

“You are not shit.”

It’s hilarious really; how she can say that with such a serious face. It’s even funnier how the phrase give Steve permission to breathe again.

“They are shit. They are bullies. You are not a bully. You are nice. You are my friend. You protect my friends and give us snacks. Bullies don’t share snacks.”

If it were possible Steve would adopt this child. He can see what Hopper saw in her. She’s complicated and naive but she’s kind. She’s just a good kid. One that any parent would be proud of.

“You’re right,” Steve laughs mostly to himself, “bullies don’t share snacks.”

El laughs with him and she does it legitimately. She’s right about the other stuff too. Steve isn’t a bully, at least not anymore. Even before Billy, he managed to put his old shit aside and accept Robin. His old self would have been enraged that he’d been rejected. He absolutely would have passive aggressively slipped that information to someone shittier than him. There would have been a mob in a matter of days, torches and all. The old Steve would have let her burn and acted like he hadn’t handed them the matches to do it.

That’s not who he is now.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Steve says, “Billy and I are a secret.”

“Friends don’t lie,” El says, looking almost hurt by the assumption that she’s being asked to.

“It’s not lying. If too many people know it can put us in danger. It’s like-“

His eyes light up.

“Your super powers! Those had to be a secret right? So you’d be safe. It’s like that.”

El understands this perfectly.

“I will keep you and Billy safe,” she says with a mild determination, “I promise.”

Steve realizes that the fighting has stopped downstairs. He wonders if that’s a good thing or not. He stands up and offers a hand to help El up.

“We should check on them,” Steve notes as El pulls on his arm.

As Steve prepares himself for whatever scene awaits him downstairs, he makes it a point to stay in front of El. Her powers had made her strong but with or without them Steve is going to protect this kid. Even if it’s just keeping her safe from little bull shit things.

Speaking of bull shit, he’s going to have to figure out a way to let Joyce know that El needs an actual sex talk but that’s a problem for another day.


	4. Say It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that the following chapter does contain adult material.

“He is a dingus,” Billy agrees quietly.**  
**

Robin raises an eyebrow. The arch just barely peaks above her sunglasses. She’s got a large brim hat on too. Billy doesn’t see much point in sunbathing if you go to the trouble of hiding from the sun but then Robin does have the pale freckled thing going on. She probably burns.

“Don’t go stealing my pet name,” Robin taunts him, “It took me a whole two minutes to make that stick.”

Billy doesn’t play back very much. He’s afraid that what he says will be too biting. He still doesn’t have a great handle on where the line is but he’s making the effort not to cross it. 

Steve swims up to the edge where Robin and Billy are sitting. His body looks oblong in the water. His hair is wet and slicked back.

“Anyone want a Coke?” he asks.

Robin shrugs completely noncommittal.

“I wouldn’t say no.”

“You ever keep any beer in this place?” Billy asks.

Steve pushes up with his arms and springs out of the water. A wave crashes up against him and just barely stops short of the no splash zone.

“Haven’t thought about beer in a while,” Steve chuckles, “maybe I should. We could have a party.”

“Is that not what we’re doing right now?” Robin says dryly.

The auburn hair, the sass; it reminds Billy of his sister. In fact if you put Robin and Max in a room together you’d be hard pressed not to assume they were siblings. It makes Billy wonder if maybe he’d get along with Max more now that she’s not his responsibility. She’s probably just as funny and smart. She might be fun to hang out with.

That is of course, if she ever got around to accepting what she saw the last time they spoke.

Steve keeps a reasonable distance now whenever people are over. It reminds Billy of the over the hill teacher he had in freshman year of high school. She would chaperone dances, or at least chaperoned the only dance he ever went to. She’d separate couples left and right and always said the same thing: save room for Jesus.

There’s room for two or three Jesus’s right now. It almost feels like overkill to Billy but he gets it. He got ahead of himself the day they were caught and Steve had no idea anyone was there: it happened so fast and God knows how far it was going to go. Billy was a little thankful that they were caught before… well before Billy did… something.

“You, uh,” Steve addresses Billy without making direct eye contact, “You feeling okay still?”

The whole point of today was to try and get Billy to face some trauma. The last time he was at a pool an inter dimensional demon made him beat and kidnap his coworker. There was no way on God’s green Earth that Billy was going back to that pool. Ever.

But the pool at Steve’s? Possible. And taking things in now, Billy feels pretty good so far.

“Get me a fucking Coke, Harrington,” he sneers.

‘I’m doing okay. Thanks.’ Billy thinks under the demand. It’s comes across as something in his eyes. He would never call it a twinkle but maybe for someone more romantic, it could be considered a twinkle.

Steve smiles and does a quick towel dry before heading inside.

“Oh hey!” Robin calls to him before he’s out of earshot, “Would you mind making me a sandwich? Just whatever is fine!”

“Of course, your Majesty!” Steve yells back.

“Sir Dingus at his finest, no?” she comments to Billy.

Billy manages a weak smile. It’s hard to find a way to relate to her. She’s a cute little thing and maybe some guys might like that. She’s not Billy’s type but she seems like Steve’s. That bothers Billy but it’s not like he can say anything. Steve made it clear way back that he and Robin are just friends.

Besides, acting mean or asking questions would make him look jealous. Billy is not prepared to feel that head on.

“Okay,” Robin says with an air of exhaustion, “Are we going to dance around this or can we just do the band-aid method?”

“…what?”

“I’ll go first I guess.”

She faces Billy dead on and whips her sunglasses off her face. She takes a deep breath.

“I like girls!”

Billy is speechless and blank faced. Robin rolls her eyes assuming that Billy needs further explanation.

“I like girls the way you like Steve.”

Billy bolts upright into a standing position. He wants to threaten her, to question her. He tries to reign it back. Threats didn’t work with Max. They’re not going to work with Max 2.0.

“Easy there, big fella,” Robin tries to coax him to sit back down, “I need you to focus on the first part of that sentence. I like girls, okay? Which means…”

She’s gesturing her hand out as if providing an example of the blank space Billy is supposed to fill in. Billy forces himself to sit back down and he keeps his fists clenched.

“You’ve got a secret too,” Billy growls.

“Yes!” Robin cheers, “so we’re even now! I know about you, you know about me.”

Billy’s knuckles are turning white.

“And how do you know?”

Robin ponders that for a minute. She pops her lip and put her sunglasses on.

“Dingus was kind of required to tell me,” she settles on her choice of words, “since I sort of told him my secret first when coming down from a Russian drug high.”

Billy is certain he understands half that sentence. He’s also certain that he doesn’t want to understand the other half. ‘Russian’ is enough context to know that digging any deeper would mean too much of a recap for Billy.

Robin takes this as enough of an agreement. She takes off her hat and lays back, exposing her light skin to some rays. She lets out a comfortable sigh.

“It feels amazing to say that, by the way.”

“Say what?” Billy asks.

“I like girls,” Robin giggles and spreads her hands out toward the sun, “I like girls! Tammy Thompson was hot! Girls are hot!”

“All right, enough,” Billy says in irritation, “shut up before someone hears.”

“Like who? The munchkin brigade are all doing something together and we’re practically in the middle of nowhere.”

She sits up suddenly and grins with such excitement that it almost scares Billy.

“You should try it,” she goads him.

“No.”

“Oh c’mon! I bet the stick in your butt would loosen up if you just shouted your feelings.”

Billy isn’t supposed to hit anyone but the feeling still shows up now and then. Right now even. It would be satisfying to smack Robin so hard she shot into the water. Or maybe hard enough that her berry colored lips pop right off and stick to a nearby tree.

But the feeling isn’t a real urge anymore. He doesn’t have it in him to hurt somebody like that. He’s still angry and irritated but sometimes being forced into violence makes a man reel in his own fists. Billy doesn’t want to hurt people anymore.

Robin looks apologetic now and eases up.

“I hit a sore spot, huh?” she grimaces, “Sorry. I know this whole liking the same gender thing isn’t easy. I’m just excited is all. I kept this a secret for my entire life and now two people know and they don’t hate me or think I’m gross. I can just be myself and say it out loud and that’s pretty awesome.”

Billy can’t imagine having feelings like that for a lifetime. It must have sucked. Even just the short time Billy’s been wrestling with has been nightmarish. He’s not always sure of himself or of Steve. There’s a deep need to hide from it and run. That cowardice often makes him sick and he’s not entirely sure it’ll pass. Unless…

“I like Steve.”

It’s barely more than a whisper. It’s a taste of freedom, of genuine expression. Robin’s eyes grow wide with ecstatic support.

“I’m not shouting it.”

“It feels amazing, right?” Robin is practically vibrating she’s so thrilled.

“No.”

“C’mon you can do it.”

“Fuck off!”

Something changes in Robin’s demeanor. Her tone becomes less cheery and more challenging. She’s felt similar things; the self hate and fear. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth. In a way, confronting Billy is like confronting those shitty feelings.

“Fuck on! What are you?! A pansy who can’t admit his feelings?”

“Shut up!”

“‘Oh no!’” she mocks him, “‘I’m a wimp who can’t say how I feeeeeel!’ Man up!”

“No!”

“THEY ARE JUST FEELINGS. THEY DON’T BITE.”

“FUCK YOU!”

“NO THANK YOU BECAUSE I-“

“SHUT UP!” Billy tries to shout over her.

“LIKE”

“STOP!”

“GIRLS!”

The smug look on her face drives Billy mad. She’s so confident and unapologetic about it. This is who she is and as far as internal struggle goes she has none. She is unafraid of herself, her feelings, her sexuality. Billy is so jealous he swears he can feel the green bleeding out through his eyes. Again Billy stands up, his body rigid with fury.

“Fine!” Billy shouts, “You want me to say I love him or some shit!?! I fucking do! You happy, bitch!? There!!” 

Billy wants to throw or hit something. He needs this rage to escape or it’ll build up in that awful way that makes him feel like he can’t stay in his own body anymore. Billy has the beginnings of some serious pacing about to go down but when he turns on his heel he sees Steve frozen at the back door with a sandwich in one hand and an armful of Coke’s in the other.

Billy is caught and just as frozen as Steve. He heard him. He heard him say it. Billy wasn’t even sure of what he was saying while he was saying it and now it’s here sitting between them. Bigger than a dozen Jesus’s.

“I was,” Robin says awkwardly as she makes her way inside, “not expecting that. Good luck and-“

She manages to tug the sandwich out of Steve’s hand.

“-thanks for the food! Later dingus!”

She all but runs into the house. It’s for the better. There’s no telling how this is going to end.

“You can’t… don’t call her shit like that,” Steve says flatly but doesn’t move, “she’s my best friend. Don’t-“

“I know,” Billy responds just as blankly.

“You should apologize.”

“Yeah.”

They’re not really talking about that. It’s a formality that fills the silence and gives them a reason to lock eyes with each other. Steve is right but Billy already knows that. Steve knows Billy knows.

“She’s my best friend,” Steve says again.

“Then what the fuck am I?”

Billy isn’t angry when he says it. He sounds lost and that’s surprises him more than it does Steve. Steve calmly sets the Coke cans on the ground. He approaches Billy slowly and places a hand on each of his shoulders.

“We keep going back and forth on this shit. I don’t need to call it anything special but I’m not dumb. I know what you are. I’m sick of going two steps forward and one back or whatever.”

Steve rests his forehead against Billy’s. His hair is still damp from the water.

“We can go slow. I’m cool with that. I like it. I don’t know how this is supposed to go. But I like being with you.”

Billy is so vulnerable and he hates it. Steve is transparent and honest. It makes Billy feel crazy and wounded and alive. He feels more alive right now than he has in years.

But Steve still hasn’t said it back.

“I need a shower,” Steve murmurs, “can you wash my hair?”

—-

The shower head echoes water against the tile and it takes some of the edge off. Billy’s standing there, bare feet cold against the hard flooring, and he can’t find it in himself to look at Steve. He’s got a hard look fixed on his face bordering on anger. But he’s not angry. If anything Billy is terrified.

Steve sets out two towels on rack. Steam is rising from behind the curtain and the room is getting humid. Billy braves a glance at Steve and is immediately caught. 

_I’m not pissed off. I’m not. I want this I swear,_ Billy thinks heatedly, praying that his expression isn’t betraying him.

“Come here,” Steve calls tenderly.

Billy finds himself listening and doing exactly as he’s asked. Something about the way Steve says it makes it easier to take orders. He’s firm but affectionate? Billy will never say out loud that he loves that about him. But then he never thought he’d say he loves Steve either. Up until that very moment he didn’t even know he did.

Steve pulls him into a tender kiss much like the long sessions they have some nights in his bed. That’s how far it goes though. Kissing, sometimes a little groping. There’s always restraint but Billy fears that restraint isn’t what awaits him now.

“I want you to say it again,” Steve whispers into Billy’s ear, “but tell me.”

Billy’s bicep flexes as he forms a fist but Steve catches him at the wrist. Billy isn’t going to hit him but there’s that need to pull away, to fight himself and Steve. 

“It’s okay,” Steve kisses him again for reassurance, “It’s you and me. You’re- it’s safe.”

There’s anger in Billy’s eyes now. His arm is purposefully straining against Steve’s grip. Every instinct he has tell him to rage against this. Being gay is bad. Emotions are for women. Love is weakness.

But all these things were shit he learned from his asshole dad. If Billy sticks to that shit he’ll just be another asshole. Why does he have to be? Why does he feel compelled to be that?

Billy lets go of his fist and everything that was gripped in it; fear, anger, judgement. There’s a chance he’ll cling to those things another day but Steve’s grip is comforting, his proximity intoxicating. The room is so warm and wet. Billy can lean into it all if he just lets himself.

“I suck at this,” Billy admits, “I’ll be a shitty… boyfriend.”

It’s a brave word to use and it has consequences. Tiptoeing around the labels always felt safer as if that somehow gave them an out on each other. They could wave it all off as a ‘thing’ and never look back. Billy is trying to avoid that direction and if he’s going to lean into this he might as well lean all the way.

“I’ve been a shitty boyfriend before,” Steve kisses Billy’s relaxed knuckles, “You’re gonna be fine. Now will you please say it.”

“I love you.”

Billy’s chest is hollow as the words swirl around him and Steve. He tries fervently to fight the shame crawling up his throat. He won’t give in to it this time.

“Good,” Steve drops Billy’s wrist and cups his face, “because I love you too.”

They’re kissing again and it feels like the more they kiss the less Billy feels bad about it. Is it possible to kiss away shame? Can you solve everything with the right kiss? Because Billy has kissed a lot of women in hopes of fixing himself somehow. It didn’t work then but this feels different. Everything about Steve is different and it’s more than him being a guy.

Steve runs his hands down Billy’s arms, over the abs and his fingers find the waistband of Billy’s shorts. His fingers are flush with the deep V of Billy’s abs. He starts to kiss down Billy’s neck, down his chest, as those fingers bring those red shorts down. As the fabric hits Billy’s ankles, Steve’s lips tease at a hickey at the waist.

So this is what it’s like, Billy thinks. Billy has kissed and fucked plenty of times but no one’s ever loved him like this. He’s never made love of any kind. He can tell that Steve has absolutely loved and made love. He moves like an expert. Billy wants to learn from him, with him.

Steve stands up and disrobes himself quickly and seamlessly. He presses his whole body into Billy, creating a much needed but not fully satisfying friction between both their cocks. He dominates the kiss between them, gripping Billy firmly by the hair at his neck.

Billy is absent of any and all reservations about this. Instead he lets himself get swept up in the wave Steve’s created. He’s operating purely on physical instinct. Feeling safe has bred a docile nature into him but he loves it; he loves Steve.

Steve tapers off his kiss again into Billy’s neck.

“Shower,” he murmurs before pulling away.

Being apart even for a few seconds digs out that hollow space in Billy’s chest again. Steve offers his hand and guides Billy into the shower. There’s something poetic about this happening in the shower. So often Billy has regarded himself and their relationship as dirty but they’re consummating it in the very place where they go to get clean.

The warm water feels amazing against Billy’s skin but it looks amazing on Steve. Now that they have a slice of space between them Billy notices that Steve isn’t very muscular. Billy doesn’t care. His eyes take in Steve like a feature premier at a drive-in theater. He casts the same spell too, commanding attention. Billy gives it easily now but he wants to be braver, bolder. He aches for it.

Billy’s hands find their way to Steve’s hips and start to gravitate to the center of his pelvic bone. The thick, curly patch of dark hair feels strangely inviting. It titillates the pads of his fingers. Steve fixes a grip firmly on Billy’s erection as a response. It causes Billy to suck in air through his teeth.

_He beat me to it_, Billy starts to get furious at the power play but he can’t hold to it. Not with the pleasure from the contact flooding his system.

“Together,” Steve instructs him.

You’re so fucking perfect, Billy takes back any anger he felt as his brain rolls in that thought. He kisses Steve as to signal agreement before palming Steve’s cock. Together is good. Together is more than good.

Their lips stay locked as they start getting each other off. Billy knows his hands are rough. He’s got calluses on his palms from lifting weights and working on his car. It doesn’t seem to bother Steve at all though.

Meanwhile Steve’s hands are softer than expected and his long fingers feel amazing curled around the base of Billy’s cock. Billy’s moaning into Steve’s mouth. He always moans so much with him, as if he finally has permission to make all the sounds he’s held back before.

Billy’s moaning gets huskier and his breath quickens. Everything in his body is seizing up tight and he feels a heat in his hips.

“Are you-“

Steve is about to ask if Billy is close but Billy already knows the rest of the question.

“Uh huh,” he grunts, “God. Fuck. I love you.”

“I love you.”

They keep saying it back and forth until Steve starts groaning and a hotter and thicker liquid starts to coat Billy’s hand. Billy is only a second behind and he moans out his proclamation as he cums in Steve’s fist.

The water is already washing away the thick of their mess. What doesn’t go down the drain right away congeals awkwardly. It’s like a thick paste on Billy’s abs. Steve fumbles around and produces a washcloth. He offers it to his partner with a smile.

Billy wipes away what’s left. His knees feel like buckling but he keeps upright. Wordlessly, he begins to wipe the cum off of Steve’s stomach. It sends a shiver through Steve’s body.

“You… still want me to wash your hair?” Billy asks as he hands back the soiled cloth.

Steve nods.

—-

Billy wakes up as the big spoon. His entire body is sore, some parts more than others. He’s never had a sexual marathon like that before. He snuggles into Steve a little more. The smell of sex is on him and it sends a pleasurable wave through Billy. That’s their sex, that’s them. Billy thinks he might be content to stay like this with him forever.

The growling in his gut says otherwise.

Billy carefully pulls his arms out from Steve and slides off the bed. He sees a pair of sweats on the back of the desk chair and commandeers them. It is kind of nice to steal his clothes especially since Billy doesn’t have much of his own here. Max has snuck him a few articles of clothing here and there but nothing recently. That’s reasonable. She needs time to adjust to having a a gay brother.

Billy smiles at the thought. It’s amazing how having an entire night of incredible and very gay sex makes you accept the whole being gay thing. He wonders if he’ll ever go back to women but grimaces. If he doesn’t love anyone else the way he loves Steve there really isn’t a point is there?

Billy passes by the shower and debates getting in. The two of them absolutely need to bathe but Billy thinks it might be better to do it together. It could lead to some nice late morning tension release and if not that at least the company will be nice.

Billy hasn’t felt this good about the world or about himself in… well ever. He knows that his relationship with Steve isn’t going to fix everything despite feeling that way last night. It’s a nice start though. Billy isn’t a complete monster. He’s capable of love and being loved. Intimacy is real and vulnerability isn’t so bad. He’s not planning on starting a lovefest or anything but being with Steve gives him a certain confidence. He can be less shitty. He can be good.

When Billy turns into the kitchen he runs into a blonde, thin stranger who screams bloody murder.

“Who the fuck are you!?” he shouts at the frantic women.

A tall, well dressed man hurried comes in through the back door. He’s got a ridiculous mustache and thinning hair. He sees Billy and immediately goes in for a punch. Billy dodges and throws a hook of his own. The man crumples on impact and passes out cold. The woman starts screaming again.

“What the fuck is going on!?” Billy shouts at her, “Who are you!?”

Steve frantically enters the scene and collides into Billy. Billy catches him and helps him maintain balance. Before Billy can ask anything else, the woman stops screaming and Steve turns pale.

“Mom?”


	5. Where Do We Go Now

It’s weird to be squatting in the Byers’ empty house. It feels too big and hollow. Steve hadn’t been in it often enough to remember the layout but there’s the ghosts of furniture past etched into the carpet. It’s weird to think that a family lived here; that they had normal Christmases and birthdays. That they ate breakfasts and played music. Now there’s nothing but indents and faded spots. 

Steve and Billy mostly stay in the living room camped out in a nest of stray blankets and a couple pillows. It feels the least invasive of their options. A cooler sits nearby but Steve already knows that the sodas and snacks in it are probably lukewarm by now.

Steve rolls over to his left to look at Billy. The poor guy has a sheen of sweat across his whole body and his hair is flat. Still, Steve fights the urge to curl up with him. It’s impossible to keep physical contact up in this heat and Hawkins won’t really cool down until mid October. Not that they can stay here much longer.

Steve hears movements in the other room. He quickly scrambles to put some distance between himself and Billy. The rug scratches at his knees and he briefly says a prayer that Billy isn’t naked under that sheet he’s wrapped himself in.

Dustin appears in the living room through one of the bedroom doors. The sound from earlier had been him climbing into the window and hauling snacks and other provisions with him. Steve mentally berates himself again for breaking Joyce’s window a few days ago but he wasn’t entirely sure of where else to go.

“Henderson,” Steve attempts a greeting but his throat is dry.

Dustin picks up on this and pulls out a large thermos. Steve tries not to guzzle down all of the cold water in one go but half ends up sacrificed to his thirst.

“It’s okay,” Dustin lets him know quietly, “I brought another one for... him.”

Dustin doesn’t seem too pleased about bringing anything for Billy if the avoidance of his name is any indication. Billy snores a little and flips onto his back. Steve doesn’t realize that he’s smiling until he notices that Dustin’s caught him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Dustin says, irritated, as he turns to pack food and drinks into the cooler.

Steve feels a flush come up to his cheeks and it’s not just the morning heat. It’s not possible that Dustin knows right? El swore to secrecy and Steve hadn’t even hinted at anything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Dustin or maybe it is. It’s not reassuring to come out to anyone about this when Steve’s own parents gave him the boot over it.

“Do what?” Steve asks, immediately regretting it.

Dustin closes the lid on the cooler and looks Steve square in the eye. His lip line is tight, still irritated. Steve feels like he’s about to lose a friend, a sibling even. Dustin’s the little brother he never had and to have that family reject him too somehow hurts more. He chose Dustin and Steve’s praying that Dustin chooses him back right now.

“You two sleep together. In summer. You’re staying together and he’s not hurt anymore. You look at him like you looked at Nancy and even Robin sometimes. I’m not dumb! Stop treating me like I’m dumb!”

Billy stirs a bit at the outburst but manages to quickly fall back asleep. Dustin’s not really yelling so much as raising his voice a bit. Steve feels like Dustin is yelling, feels like he’s screaming.

“You’re not dumb,” Steve is talking in a panic, no filter, “you are the smartest kid- smartest person I’ve ever known.”

“Then why are you trying to hide it?”

“Because- because people might-“

“From me! Why are you trying to hide it from me?!”

Billy does wake up this time. He peers sleepily at Steve and Dustin. He groans and sits up on the floor.

“I’m guessing curly top figured us out?” Billy asks Steve while Steve still sits five feet away and dumbstruck.

“Days ago,” Dustin says through gritted teeth, “and my name is Dustin.”

Billy’s eyebrow ticks up in consideration of this child and how he’s holding his ground. Steve feels like he should intervene but there aren’t any words in his mouth. He’s just sitting on the floor completely stupid and silent.

“You got a problem then?” Billy challenges.

“Yeah I do.”

Steve braces himself for the worst. He can hear Dustin’s voice in his head saying terrible things; calling him a faggot and a queer. He tries to shield himself against the thought of cutting ties, of never seeing little mop top Henderson again. Briefly he debates saying this is all a joke and he’s not gay or anything but Dustin’s not stupid. Lying would make it worse. He’s going to make his choice and Steve is going to have to deal with losing someone important.

“Why you?” Dustin asks, “You tried to hurt us way before The Mind Flayer got to you. Your sister had to beat the snot out of you just to get you away from us! You’re a jerk and an asshole and you’re one of the bad guys!”

Dustin directs himself to Steve not allowing Billy the opportunity to defend himself.

“You’re one of the good guys!” Dustin says, his voice cracking, “You’re my friend and you save people. This guy beat you up, remember? He tried to kill us! Good guys don’t date assholes!”

Steve tries to process to the best of his ability but given the expectations he had it isn’t easy. He notices that Billy looks amused at all this but that doesn’t help. Steve stands to his feet.

“Wait… wait so-“ Steve’s brain posits his conclusion, “your problem is that Billy’s an asshole?”

“Yeah!”

“Not because he’s...a guy?”

“No!”

Dustin looks like he wants to throw something at Steve because he’s being stupid but he doesn’t. Steve starts to laugh and mutters the word ‘unbelievable’ to himself. The laughter suddenly turns into crying and Steve can’t stop it.

Billy’s at Steve’s side now and he notices that he’s not naked as he had feared earlier and thank God for that. Steve hides his face behind his hands because crying is embarrassing. He didn’t realize how mortifying it is to cry like this.

“Hey, hey no,” Billy says firmly and pulls his hands down.

Billy cradles Steve’s face and wipes away the tears with his thumbs. He rests his head against Steve’s. His attempts to speak soothingly come out as more of a gruff, hushed tone. It’s still works for Steve though and he leans into being comforted.

“It’s my turn, okay?” Billy reassures him as best as he can, “Don’t hold back. Fuck it.”

“Steve?” Dustin asks quietly.

“Hey you did enough you little-“ Billy turns, teeth bared and ready to fight a child.

“No,” Steve stops Billy from turning his fury on Dustin, “it’s happy crying. It’s good. I’m fine. I didn’t know happy crying exists but I’m- I’m good.”

Steve takes a deep breath and gives Billy’s hand a squeeze before stepping back. He smiles at Dustin cautiously.

“So the being a queer part,” he clarified, “it doesn't bother you?”

Dustin smiles.

“Do you know how many times me and my friends have been called queer? Or toothless or fat or dorky? If I thought any of those things were bad those assholes would have gotten to me. I told you; high school shit is stupid.”

“You really are the smartest person I know.” 

Steve crosses the room and gives Dustin a hug. He pats his back and Dustin pats in return. Steve’s can’t believe how brilliant and caring this kid is. He pulls back and chuckles.

“We’re family,” Dustin says before glancing quickly at Billy, “I still think he’s an asshole though.”

“He’s working on it. I used to be the asshole boyfriend remember? Now look at me.”

“You look like you need a tissue.”

Steve laughs and wipes his nose with the collar of his shirt. He then ruffles Dustin’s hair and Dustin grimaces.

“You  _ smell  _ like you need a shower,” Dustin points out, backing away.

“We’re, uh, kind of camping so,” Steve shrugs.

“We’re squatting,” Billy corrects him.

“Either way,” Steve sends minor eye daggers to Billy, “it doesn’t come with showers. Think you could help us find one?”

—-

Steve quietly thanks God for the cool air blasting in the video store. He’s also thankful that Mrs Henderson attends Bible study on Tuesday mornings because her convenient absence allowed for Steve and Billy some much needed hygiene at her home.

Steve’s also grateful his parents let him take one of the cars. Of course they wanted him off the property as quickly as possible so it made sense to gift him a getaway vehicle. That night was tough and Steve doesn’t like to think about it too much. He can still remember when his dad came too and his mother sobbing that they smelled like sex. It’s a good thing Billy had knocked out Steve’s father already because the man looked like he was ready to kill Steve right then and there if Billy wasn’t there to stop him.

“Hey dingus,” Robin calls out affectionately, “you feel like having a scary movie night sometime soon? I’m sure my dad would be thrilled to see me bring a boy home.”

She’s been caught up already. Steve had called her that night before heading out. The last thing he wanted was for her to show up for a pre work swim and have to confront the very irate Mr and Mrs Harrington. Steve knows that the movie offer is more a means to give him temporary refuge than a social call but he appreciates the effort.

“How would your dad feel about bringing home two boys?” Steve asks flatly.

Robin’s shelving tapes while Steve mans the front but other than the two of them there isn’t a soul in sight.

“Right,” she says, “can’t forget about your grumpy other half.”

It puts Steve on edge to talk about it in public spaces despite knowing they’re in the clear. He checks the store over just in case and then rests his gaze on the door. There’s a bell on it so really the staring isn’t necessary but Steve’s not taking any chances.

“He’s not grumpy he’s-“

“Stoic? Reserved?” Robin offers as she audibly rummages through her box of tapes, “Butch?”

Steve rolls his eyes and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. She comes around the counter and hops up to take a seat.

“Relax,” Robin stretches her arms up high, “I like your boy toy. I swear.”

“Shouldn’t you finish off that box?”

“You know the manager and I are cool. Besides I can always blame you.”

She lays backwards and dangles her torso off the counter. Her back pops and Steve shudders.

“Okay, enough,” he leaves the counter and heads for the box of tapes, “I’ll do it. And stop dicking around on the counter, you’ll get hurt.”

“Sure thing, dad,” Robin hops down and follows Steve, “Are you okay? Seriously. You seem like you’re having a bad day.”

It shouldn’t be a bad day. Steve got a shower and a Snickers for breakfast. Dustin accepts him in his newfound gay identity. Billy has an interview down at the garage. This is a good day, isn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” Steve sighs, “I guess I’m not looking forward to going back to that sweat box I’m squatting at. No power, no water. It’s awful.”

Robin gets unnaturally quiet but Steve doesn’t stop going through the second half of the box. He comes across a copy of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. It’s a movie he’s never actually seen and he doubts Billy has either. It looks like it would be right up Dustin’s alley and it’s probably something Robin’s seen. He rummages for any other titles starting with an ‘s’.

“What are you and Billy going to do?” Robin asks solemnly as Steve makes his way to the right shelf with a stack of video tapes.

“I… I don’t know.”

There’s a greater context to that and Steve is horrified as he slowly sinks into it. This is what they’re doing now but where will they go next? For how long? It’s not common to see two guys living together and really what would be their excuse? They couldn’t pass for brothers and the mere thought of posing as such makes Steve feel a bit grossed out. They’re boyfriends not relatives but they can’t get caught.

“I think I know why I’m having a bad day,” Steve shoves the rest of the tapes on the shelf, damning any sense of alphabetical order.

Steve walks past the box, past the counter and Robin, and right up to the door. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing but can’t stop. Robin looks bewildered as Steve holds open the door to the afternoon heat. He pauses there and lets the warm air graze his cheeks. He breathes it in and it’s almost suffocating.

“Steve?”

“I’m sorry. I have to- I’m sorry,” Steve manages to apologize before taking off down the street at a brisk pace. The heat immediately clings to his body and it makes him move faster. He’s headed toward the center of town but his mind has no true destination. It’s as if his body thinks that if he keeps moving then eventually everything will feel lighter.

“Wait! Steve! Steve!”

Robin sidles up to Steve’s pace after a minute or two. The keys to the video rental store are jingling her hand. He glances at her in utter confusion but doesn’t stop. He isn’t exactly expecting a copilot on this miniature breakdown.

“I am a band nerd, you ass, we don’t run!” She berates him with a light slap on the shoulder.

This doesn’t phase him and he continues his walk at the same speed. They’ve gone about a block and a half away from the store. Out in the day to day of Hawkins only the elderly, a few housewives, and a pack of kids ditching are running about. None of them have the slightest idea of what’s going on in Steve’s head and he supposes that means he’s in good company. They move quickly and quietly out of his way.

“Where are we going?” Robin demands fiercely.

“I don’t know!” Steve shouts back at her and breaks his stride, “I don’t know where I’m going and where  _ we _ are going or where anything is going! I don’t know!”

Steve’s breathing is rapid and heavy. He looks down at his hands and sees that they’re shaking. It’s not fear or anger that’s fueling him. He can’t name what it is but it feels a lot like when you’re squaring off against a monster or running for your life. Robin looks him over with a sense of unease plainly on her face. She takes one of his shaking hands and laces her fingers into it.

“Whaaa-”

But Steve doesn’t get to finish his question because Robin starts walking again. She pulls him behind her but Steve quickly adjusts and starts moving with her. His hands aren’t shaking now and his heartbeat starts to even out. He tries to question Robin again. 

“Where are we-“

“You’ll find out.”

“What about the store?”

“I’ve abandoned a job before, haven’t you?” Robin is teasing but her voice stays serious and she keeps moving.

It occurs to Steve that they’ve got a perfectly good car waiting for them back at their job but it’s too late now. Robin’s in charge of this break down and she leads him to Hawkins high and then past Hawkins high to where the trees start up again. Steve still can’t tell where this journey is going but he respectfully follows in silence. Robin takes very determined steps through the grass and small patches of fallen leaves until they come upon a massive tree and she stops. She lets go of Steve’s hand and looks at the tree with a sense of reverence.

“Climb,” she instructs Steve.

“What? Climb? Seriously?”

Robin doesn’t offer any further explanation as she’s already pulling herself up on the branches. She moves in a way that can only be described as precise. Steve mimicks her movements as best as he can but tree climbing doesn’t come naturally to him. He lags behind by a minute and pulls himself onto a large branch adjacent to the one Robin’s selected as her perch.

“Okay, I climbed, now what the fuck are we doing?”

Steve tries not to awkwardly straddle the branch. He attempts to bring both legs to one side almost like riding side saddle but decides there’s more dignity in straddling. He presses his back to the trunk of the tree. The bark is itchy but the shade keeps everything cool.

“All settled?” Robin asks sarcastically.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve laments.

“Good, now just shut up and listen, okay?”

Robin takes a deep breath to prepare herself. Steve feels like maybe he shouldn’t be looking at her. The mood seems rather intimate and it isn’t like when she came out about herself before. There were drugs and blood then. The situation deemed a sense of vulnerability but here things feel more personal, more deliberate. Steve looks out over the town of Hawkins and really takes in the view he’s been gifted. Robin stares out as well and speaks softly, just barely loud enough to be heard by Steve.

“Tammy never loved me and she was never going to love me no matter how in love with her I was but that didn’t stop me from dreaming. I used to come up here and think about how beautiful things looked if you could just manage to put yourself above all the bull shit.

I liked to pretend that someday I’d bring her up here and then she’d understand almost like it was magic and she’d kiss me and I’d kiss her. It could all fall in place if I could just have a sign, if I could only be that brave.

But it didn’t.

And the more time I spent here the more I realized that even if Tammy felt the same way as I did, what the fuck would that mean for us? I could never take her to the movies or go to dinner. I couldn’t take her to prom. Do you know how beautiful she was at junior prom? I saw her in passing; she was getting into Kevin Laney’s car and- God, I never thought I’d ever want to be my neighbor Kevin Laney but I would have sold my soul to switch places with him for just that night, even just for a minute, so I could tell her that she’s beautiful.

I don’t have anywhere to go either whether I ever have someone or not-”

“You will,” Steve interrupts, “Robin, you are the most amazing girl in the world. If we weren’t- you know I’d-”

“I know. It’s not about that though. You’re lucky in a way; you found someone who’s like you and, sure, he’s kind of emotionally stunted and prickly but he loves you. That doesn’t make the logistics of being this way any easier. You’re actually way more likely to get found out but at least… at least you’re not alone.”

Steve doesn’t have anything to say to that. His experience in being interested in the same sex is so different from Robin’s to the point that there isn’t much to relate to. Steve’s realization was sudden and surprising whereas Robin’s was a secret she’s been sitting on for God knows how long. Steve’s in a relationship and has been in other relationships and Robin’s never been in one at all, gay or otherwise. Even the sexuality itself is different; Robin only likes women and Steve likes, well, Steve likes women and Billy and that’s all he knows right now.

“I’d give anything not to feel alone,” Robin swipes her the back of her hand across her nose to stifle a sniffle.

“You’re not alone,” Steve replies quietly, “I know I’m not- I know I can’t change how things are but we’re friends and I won’t leave you. Okay? Does that help?”

“Sure, dingus.”

She smiles at him and tosses a leaf. It floats down to the ground slowly and when Robin looks back up the light through the trees hits her features just right. Steve knows that he’d die for her because she’s beautiful and smart and brave. More than that, he’ll find a way to help her be happy because if anyone deserves to be happy it’s her.

“Y’know, there has to be other girls who like girls,” Steve says.

“Well they’re not in Hawkins that’s for sure.”

“So then let’s leave Hawkins.”

Robin rolls her eyes.

“Oh yeah, sure, let’s just leave!”

Steve listens to his own throw away comment and he lights up. His body seems to jolt with new energy, good energy.

“Why not? Yeah. Let’s leave! There has got to be somewhere out there where Billy and I can be ourselves and where you can find a girlfriend! I mean what’s the gayest place you can think of?”

“Steve, I don’t think that’s advertised in a travel brochure.”

“Okay but there has to be somewhere where it’s easier. We just have to think! And you, you’re good at research and stuff! We’ll just leave! You and me and Billy! You pick a place and Billy and I will save the money and we’ll go!”

Robin turns to face her whole body toward Steve. Her hand on the trunk keeps her steady. Steve is smiling and so satisfied with his idea. It’s so simple he wonders why he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“You really mean it.”

“Hell yeah! Who says we have to stay in Hawkins? Let’s go.”

Robin is quiet while she thinks it over. A short distance away, Steve can hear the sound of his former high school. Technically Robin has another year there but she’s so far ahead in her classes that her senior year mostly consists of like three classes and band if Steve remembers right. He could save loads of money in a single school year and with Billy saving too they could probably buy a house in this idealized version of Gay, USA. Granted there’s still the matter of where to stay in the meantime but that’s small potatoes as far as Steve’s concerned. He has a plan and it’ll work. It has to work.

“Okay,” Robin says, “After I graduate, I’ll go. We’ll all go.”

“Yes!” Steve throws a fist in the air and loses his balance.

It isn’t until Steve hits the ground that he realizes that the same hand he’d just gestured with is now broken.


End file.
